The Brat Pack
by WinterD
Summary: AU. William "Spike" Barrett is a successful singer who lives the typical rock star life, until his nieces and nephew come to live with him. His life is thrown for an even bigger loop when he hires an aspiring actress named Buffy to be their nanny.
1. Chapter One

Title:  The Brat Pack

Rated: PG-13

Summary: William "Spike" Barrett is a successful singer who lives the typical rock star's life.  Then his estranged sister dies, and he suddenly has not one, not two, but three young children to take care of.   His life is thrown for even more of a loop when he hires an inexperienced, aspiring actress, who he recently got fired, named Buffy.  Kids vs. adults.  Boss vs. employee.  Spike vs….everyone.  Yeah, this should be fun.

Disclaimer:  I own nothing; Joss, UPN, and WB own everything.  I'm just playing with the characters for my own twisted amusement.  Please don't sue me.

Special Thanks: To my beta, Kris.  

AN: Just a stupid idea I've had for awhile, inspired by 'The Nanny' (of course) and a movie called 'Jack and Sarah.'  Hopefully someone will enjoy.

*********************************************************************** 

Chapter One

Los Angeles.  Some call it the city of dreams.  Some call it a cesspool of moral bankruptcy.  Maybe it was both.  Maybe it was neither.  But there was one thing that everyone could agree about the City of Angels: it was never boring.  There was always a party going on somewhere, one just had to know where to look for it.  And usually one only had to travel as far as Beverly Hills to find one.

Giles sighed as he stood in front of the large home.  The front door was left wide open, a blatant invitation for anyone who had wished to come in and join the fun the night before.  The disgusting smell of alcohol, vomit, and a third scent that Giles would rather pretend was not there, floated out into the Californian morning air and caused the older British man to gag. 

A couple stumbled down the front steps, the trashy woman giggling ridiculously as her shoe slipped and nearly caused her to fall.  Her counterpart tightened his grip around her waist, laughing along with her as they disappeared down the driveway that was crammed full of vehicles.

Slowly, Giles made his way inside.  He had to step over several partygoers who had finally passed out, either from to much booze or other things, as he moved into the large living room.  It mimicked the foyer, only on a grander scale, with people strung about the place like fleshy cockroaches in a cheap apartment.  Furniture was broken, glass vases and mirrors were shattered, and there was an abundance of new stains settling into the fine rugs and carpets.  

Debauchery. That was what this was.  A pure and utter debauchery against any sense of breeding or class.  He was better than this, Giles knew that for a fact, considering he had basically raised the boy.  But then, this was William, so should he even try to expect anything more?

Giles recognized a large, brutish form that was resting comfortably in a chair with a slutty blonde in his lap.  She looked like a cat in heat as she rubbed against him, whispering things in his ear as she grinned wicked.

Lord, he had only been gone for two days and the place turns into a regular Sodom and Gomorrah!

"Angel."

The woman stopped giggling and straightened when she realized her man was being addressed by the irritated Brit.  It took a moment longer for it to register with Angel, who only turned around in the chair because he wanted to see what she was staring at.

"Giles!  You're back early."  His words were slurred and the smell of beer radiating off the drummer was enough to make anyone sick.

"It's eight a.m. on Monday, Angel.  I am not early.  I am right on time."

The younger man's face fell at the information.

"Party's over then, huh?"

Giles narrowed his eyes slightly.  "Yes, the party is over.  Now, get these people out of here while I go speak to William."

Giles turned on his heels to head up the stairs, not giving the man any choice but to do as he said.  As he stepped onto the second floor, the Brit glanced up and down the hall, surveying for any damage.  It was far less extensive here, and would only cost them a few thousand dollars to repair.  

Lord, at this rate, William was going to party his way right into the poor house before he hit thirty.

Stalking down the hall to the master bedroom, Giles forcefully threw open the doors.  It was no surprise to find that William was not alone; that once again some blonde groupie had found her way into his bed.

The older man walked heatedly across the room and jerked opened the curtains, letting the morning sun bathe the room in light.  Twin groans arose from the large bed as Giles headed for the other pair of windows.

"Get up, William," he said, throwing the curtains back.

"Bloody hell," the bleach blond groaned, slowly waking.  "What time is it?"

"Eight a.m.  Time to get up." Giles headed into the large closet to retrieve some decent attire for the young man.

"Sod that.  Wake me again in 'bout twelve hours."

"Spikie?" a drowsily voice asked from beside him.

"Go back to sleep, ah..." Carol?  Melody?  God, it was something to do with music. "Harmony.  Giles is just bein' a tight ass 'bout his schedule again."

"That butler guy?"

"I am not a butler nor am I being a tight ass about my schedule," the older Brit said, coming out of the closet and dropping a suit onto the young man in bed.  "You, William, and the others have a meeting with the Wasteland executives in less than two hours, not mention lunch with Anya to discuss the new tour schedule, and the band has an interview tonight with that RTV fellow, Cameron."

Giles paused in his reciting of the things that the young man was to do today as he thought of the last thing.

"And the executer of your sister's estate will be by this afternoon to drop off whatever it is that she left you."

Poor Drusilla.  It had been a good fifteen years since Giles had laid eyes on her.  It was hard to believe that she was gone now, and William truly was all that was left of that old life.

"Yeah, can't wait to go through sis's junk," Spike said, finally making an attempt to get out of bed.  "So, what do think she left me?  Her collection of unicorns or her dolls?  Or maybe she sent me a list of the guys she shagged to prove she got more than me.  Course, she had a head start on that, didn't she?"

"For God's sake, William.  She was your sister!  How can you speak like that?"

Spike glared at the old man momentarily as he pulled on his jeans, completely ignoring the suit Giles had thrown at him.

"'Cause she _was my sister," bleached blond said coolly. _

He headed into the adjoining bathroom and Giles sighed.  Fifteen years and he still hated her for leaving.  Now she was gone, and there was no way the two would ever makeup about what happened.  It was sad, really.  He felt just as sorry for William as he did Dru.

With a shake of his head, Giles headed back in the disaster area and left Spike and Harmony to their own devices.

********** 

This had so not been her day.  First, her alarm clock had not gone off, which made her late for her audition.  She had flubbed her lines through the whole scene, branding herself as the 'worst actress' they had seen all day.  Then, when she didn't think things could get much worse, she had tripped on some cable on her way out, slammed into the table the casting people had been sitting at, and caused the pitcher of water to spill all over the headshots and résumés.  Needless to say, she didn't think they'd be calling her anytime soon.

"You're late, Buffy," Cordy said, as the blonde came into the kitchen and headed into the back to change into her uniform.

"I know.  I know.  It's just been one of those days," the petite blonde sighed, hurrying to button up the white, long sleeve shirt.  

Once finished, she pulled her hair out of the collar, then proceeded to twist it into a bun on the top of her head while she held several bobby pens in her mouth.  She had done this for so long, that the process took less than five minutes, even with all the hair she had.  Loose strains fell along her neck, insuring that she didn't look like an old time school teacher, but was still compliant to the Californian health code.

The blonde took off into the kitchen once more to get to work, and ran right into Willow who was carrying a large tray of bussed dishes.

"Geez, sorry," Buffy said, grabbing for the edges of the tray to keep her friend from dropping them all over the floor.

"It's okay, I've got it," Willow assured her, steadying the tray.  When she was sure it would fall, the redhead took in a deep breath and let it out slowly.  "But you've got a table…with Anya."

"Oh, no."  

The young woman shuttered at the name.  Everyone who worked here knew Anya.  She was some music agent who always ended up bringing her clients here whenever she wanted to chew them out or discuss business.  All the girls knew her by first name, though the woman had never once bothered to learn theirs.  And the people she brought in were always so…rock star-ish.  If any of them ever showed the least bit of courtesy, Buffy was pretty sure that would be a definite sign of an upcoming apocalypse.  

"Who's she dragged in here this time?"

"Looks like the guys from Cellar Dwellers."

"Who?"

"The Cellar Dwellers." Buffy continued to look at her friend blankly, not able to put the name to anyone.  "You know.  Tormented by Glory?  Wolf Cry?  Two Sided Soul?"

"They're the ones that sing _that?  God, I hate that music.  It's so…eeww.  Like something only stoned teenagers would listen to."_

"Well, Wolf Cry isn't that bad." Glancing over her shoulder towards the swinging doors that lead into the restaurant, Willow added, "And the bass player is, um, kind of cute."

Buffy watched with a grin as her friend's face began to turn red.  She opened her mouth to make a comment, when Cordy brushed by them with a tray full of food and an irritated look.

"Guys, hungry people.  They're not going to serve themselves."

"Right," Buffy said as she and Willow parted ways.

********** 

Spike leaned back in his chair, his dark glasses pushed up high on his face as he stared out of the window.  

Anya, that damn bitch.  She chose this section with all its light on purpose because she knew he and Peaches had hangovers.  Teach them a lesson for partying the night before a big meeting with the execs.  God, if she wasn't a vengeance demon sent straight from hell, he would start wearing lifts, over gelling his hair, and change his name to Little Angel.

Speaking of the poof, he didn't look any better than him.  Well, actually, Spike did look better considering that he did get some sleep last night.  And his sunglasses didn't look like he stole them off Audrey Hepburn.

Oz sat off to the side, appearing to read the menu.  In actuality, he was watching Xander fold a piece of paper he had stolen from Wasteland Record into a perfect triangle to play 'football' like teenagers do in study hall.  He was sitting directly across from the green-haired bass player, and, once he had finished his project, held up the projectile triumphantly.  Xander looked towards Oz, silently asking him to play the game, but the stoic man just turned his attention back to menu much to the brown-haired guitar player's disappointment.

"You two look terrible," Anya said for the hundredth time that afternoon, addressing the two men at the other end of the table.

"Feel terrible too, ducks, if that makes you feel any better."

"It doesn't."

"Well, Anh, look on the bright side.  At least they actually showed up this time," Xander offered, trying to be helpful.

Angel belched slightly and his face was paler than usual, like he might be sick at any moment.

"I don't think that's a real selling point right now," Oz said dryly as he watched his fellow band member.

"No, it's not," Anya agreed, glaring at the two men.  "Those men we met with this morning decide how much money we will get to produce your next album and executives don't like giving money to people who they think will just blow it on beer and drugs.  I don't like not getting money.  So, at the next meeting, either show up sober, with some stuff to impress these men with, or don't show up at all.  Is that understood?"

"God, Anya, you're starting to sound like Giles," Spike complained, turning his attention back to the window.

"Good, then maybe you'll start listening to me."

"Not bloody-."

"Hi.  I'm Buffy and I'll be your waitress."

The bleach blond turned his head to chew out this Buffy woman for interrupting when he found himself staring at possibly one of the most attractive females he had ever laid eyes upon.  And he had laid eyes upon quiet a few in his time.  

He wasn't sure what it was about her that he found so appealing considering she wasn't really his type.  Generally, the woman he wanted were tall, with dark hair, and pale skin, excluding last nights little adventure.  This girl was the polar opposite to that: blonde with a healthy tan and a short stature.  A wisp of a girl really.  But still, he bet he could have fun with this one.

"What can I get for you?" she asked innocently.  

_'Many a thing, love_,' Spike thought, eyeing her up and down the best he could while running his tongue between his slightly parted teeth.

"Beer?" Angel asked hopefully, not really having looked at the woman who stood right behind him.

"It's eleven-thirty in the morning!" Xander exclaimed.

"Nothin' better for a hangover than to start drinkin' right away," Spike said from the far end of the table.  When Buffy glanced his way, a wolfish smile appeared on his face.  "Inn't that right, pet?"

"We'll have coffee," Anya declared, ignoring the two.  "And bring lots of cream."

"And sugar," Spike added.

"Alright.  I'll be right back to get your orders," she said smiling, before disappearing back from where she came.

The bleach blond enjoyed watching her go, since it gave him a nice view of her backside.  He smiled as he thought, '_Maybe today won't be as bad as I thought.'_

********** 

Buffy groaned as went back into the kitchen, ready for her tray to be weighted down with the next group's meal and drinks.  She hadn't stopped since getting Anya's group's order and things did not look as if they were going to let up anytime soon.  

The lunch crowd had always eaten her alive, considering that it was generally made of execs from the law firm down the street.  To them, time was money, and - though she only brought the food when it was ready - she was wasting theirs.  Well, she couldn't make Larry cook any faster, so they would just have to wait.  Unfortunately, their frustration was always taken out on the poor waiters and waitresses who they were dealing with.

"God, there awful today," Cordy groaned, following Buffy to the counter so they could fill their trays.  "I actually have this one guy who first decides the soup is to cold.  Then it's too hot.  Now, he doesn't want soup at all, just the crackers.  Ugh!  They should shoot people like that."

"Tell me about.  The lawyers in my section are working on some big case, so nothing I do is right.  I'm not fast enough.  I brought them the wrong kind of coffee.  It's something new every time I go out there."  

Buffy lifted the heavy tray and skillfully balanced it in her hand, proving she was much stronger than she appeared.  

"And at Anya's table, that bleached guy keeps checking me out and bugging me about bringing him more sugar for his coffee.  With the amount of Sweet 'n Low I've dumped on him already, I'm surprised he hasn't grown a tumor the size of a cantaloupe by now.  And he keeps watching my butt whenever I walk away and he's not even discreet about it!  And he has sunglasses on!"

Cordy made a face as she lifted her own tray.  "Ugh.  What a jerk."

"Tell me about it," the blonde said, pushing the swinging doors to the dining room open with her backside and heading back into the lions den.

Though they were rude and insulting, Buffy kept smiling as she distributed the food around the table.  If she was younger and not in need of this job so badly, she might have added her own special topping to their meals.  But she did need this job, no matter how much she hated it.

When she finished giving them their food, she began to walk away when one of the older men said, "Thanks, sweet cheeks."  He then proceeded to slap her on the butt.

Buffy's first instinct was to free the gentleman of the offensive appendage permanently, but instead she forced a smile and kept on walking.  More customers were waiting, and that guy was not worth getting fired over.  But just wait for when he asked for a refill.

As she headed towards a couple who looked particularly irritated, she heard a rough sounding British voice call for her.  "Miss."

Buffy paused.  Great, the Billy Idol wannabe wants more sugar.  God, she wished could take a sugar cane and shove it right up his-.

"Yes, sir," she said, turning around to face the bleached blond with a large, faux smile on her face.

Spike found himself amused by the look, the one that said 'ask me for sugar one more time and I'm going to shove this tray up your ass.'  Maybe if he wasn't such a prick he would leave her alone to do her job.  But he is a prick, so she'll just have to suffer.

"Could you bring us some more coffee and sugar, love?" he asked, trying to sound as sweet as he could.

Buffy held the faux smile the best she could. "Yes, sir.  I'll bring it to you in a minute."

She turned to head back to the table she had been originally traveling towards when he called, "I'd rather have it now."

Drawing a deep breath, Buffy let it out slowly.  This guy really was wearing her patience thin.  _'Okay, be nice.  Remember, must keep the job.  The job is what is important.  And he'll be gone soon, so just hold out until then.' _

"I understand, sir.  But I am very busy and will get to you when I can."

"Come on, Spike.  Leave her alone," Xander chimed in.

"Oh, no, Harris.  We're the customers.  She's the waitress.  She has to bring us what we want when we want it.  Inn't that right?"

"Yes, sir."  The look on her face was enough to make the others present, expect for Anya, want to dive under the table until the 'All Clear' siren went off.  However, it just made Spike grin all the more.

"Then go on off to the kitchen and fetch the coffee and sugar."

"I will," Buffy assured him once again, barely controlling her anger.  "Just as soon as I take care of my other customers."

"But I want my coffee now."

"And I will get it to as soon as I can.  But there are other people waiting."

"I said _now_."

She could feel her eyes narrowing as a single thought crossed her mind.  _'That's it.'_

"Look, bleach boy-."

"Bleach boy?" Spike exclaimed, getting to his feet to face off against the small girl.  He might have found the girl attractive, but no one was going to talk to him that way!

"Spike, sit down!" Anya ordered, but he had long ago given up on listening to her.

Buffy's shoulders were squared as he moved in and leered at her.  This was no longer about coffee; it had turned into an issue of respect and knowing one's place.  An issue that was going to be had out in front of a dining room full of lawyers.

"Do you know who I am?" the British man asked, his accent becoming much more polished in his anger.  

"You mean besides a colossal jerk that can't wait five minutes for me to do my job?"

His eyes narrowed even more, as if suddenly he would develop heat vision and destroy the annoying bint in front of him.  But she wasn't backing down or being intimidated and was determined to put this jerk in his place.

"Yes, _Spike_, I know who you are.  But do you know who I am?"

"An overpaid waitress that's a bitch?"

She snorted a laugh, then said sarcastically, "Yeah, I'm an overpaid waitress that's a bitch.  But guess what?  I'm also the one who has the coffee and the sugar."

If Xander had been drinking anything at the moment, Oz would have been drenched in soda and spit.  Even still, he moved his hand up to his face in a lame attempt to cover his amused smile, but didn't bother to try and hide it from his voice.

"Oh, man.  She told you."

Angel looked as if this was turning out to be the best moment of his life.  Spike being told off by a girl in the middle of a busy restaurant with everyone watching was a delightful daydream he had had for awhile.  Now all that was left was for that cute little waitress to push the annoying bleach blond out of the way, strip down to nothing but a naughty nighty, and let Angel have his way with her.

Even the ever stoic Oz had a ghost of a smile on his face.  Or, at least, what passed as a smile for him.

The only one not amused by this little display was Anya, but her venomous glare was directed at the band member, not the waitress.  Well, he had been the one to start it.

Spike could only stare at the little blonde before him, who was smirking.

"What is going on here?!" a voice suddenly bellowed.  

The whole room, who had been silently watching the exchange up until that point, turned in unison to the voice.  Standing there was a short little bald man with his own frown deeply etched on his face.  He was glaring at the young waitress, whose own smirk had fallen once she realized she had been caught.  Her shoulders dropped and she ducked her head as the man stalked over to them.  Any joy she had gotten out of telling the rocker off was now gone.

"Ms. Summers," the bald man said, making her name sound like some ancient curse.  "I should have known you would have something to do with that delightful little display."

"Mr. Snyder, it-."

"Quiet you," he hissed dangerously, causing the young woman to shrink back a little more.  

Spike almost felt sorry for her.

Almost.

The evil sneer on Snyder's face quickly shifted into an apologetic smile as he turned his attention to Anya.

"I am terribly sorry about this, Ms. Jenkins.  I do hope that Ms. Summers' crude behavior will not hinder you from continuing to visit our restaurant.  And don't worry.  The meal will not be charged to you because of this."

"But Spike was the one-OW!!" Xander shot Anya a dirty look for kicking him under the table, but the business woman kept her attention on Snyder.

"If you insist."

"Oh, I do.  I assure you that it will be coming out of Ms. Summers' paycheck."  He turned his deadly glare back to Buffy before adding, "Her _final_ paycheck."

Squeezing her eyes shut, the little blonde fought the urge to franticly try and explain what had happened.  But Snyder had had it in for her ever since she had turned the little weasel down for a date, and there would be no changing his mind, no matter what she said.  Well, she might have won the fight with Spike, but it had cost her job.

God, it really hadn't been her day.

********** 

The late afternoon light flooded into the living room, causing the furniture that Giles had spent the day replacing and cleaning to glow warmly.  Spike frowned at some of his choices; he himself would have never bought an apothecary table.  Hell, he didn't even know they still made those.  Still, maybe this one could hold more weight than the coffee table it had replaced.  One little group of college girls dances on top of it and it falls to pieces.  Really, what shoddy craftsmanship they have these days.

Glancing down at his watch, he sighed.  Where the bloody hell was that stupid lawyer?  He was supposed to be here an hour ago, and Spike had that blasted interview he had to be at in twenty minutes!  Anya was already sore enough at him about this morning and the thing at the restaurant; he didn't need to hear about being late for Cameron too.  

"William, Mr. Travers is here to see you," Giles said walking into the living room with a pudgy, old man following behind him.

"Sorry, I'm late," the British lawyer apologized, closing the gap between he and Spike.  "My name is Quentin Travers.  I'm the executer of your sister's estate."

"Estate?  Dru actually had an estate?"

"Well, yes.  She and her husband had accumulated quiet a bit of net worth over the years."

"Husband?"

Travers blinked as he looked at the young man, glanced over his shoulder to the older Englishman, then back to Spike.  "Er, yes.  Mr. David Griffin."

"If she had a husband, why'd she leave me anything?"

"He was killed in the same car accident as your sister, Mr. Barrett.  I'm afraid that you are the only living family member left."

"So, what?  You sayin' I get everything?"

"In a nutshell, yes."

"Great," Spike muttered.  

That was all he needed, a bigger headache dealing with liquidating his sister's and her husband's assets.  Well, that might give Giles something to do for awhile, and keep him out of Spike's hair at the same time.  And, if she really did have money and left it to him, that's always a plus.  

"I would like to sit down with you and go over everything before I have you sign the papers.  Especially concerning what I have to leave with you tonight.  It's imperative that you understand-."

"Look, Mr. Travers.  I would really love to talk about all this with you tonight, but I have an interview in fifteen minutes.  Just give me what it is that I have to sign, and leave whatever is so important of my sister's that you had to bring it tonight on the coffee table and be on your way."

"Mr. Barrett, I'm afraid you don't understand."

"Just give me the damn papers and I'll sign them, alright?"

"Mr. Barrett-."

Spike snatched the folder out of his hands, walked over to the desk, and flipped through it until he came across a document with his name on it.  He scanned over it, recognizing a few legal terms from his days at Law School, then scribbled his name at the bottom.  

"There, all nice and legal.  Now we can both get on with our lives."

He turned back to the old man, forcefully slapped the folder into his chest, then started for the staircase. 

"Just leave it on the coffee table."

"Mr. Barrett!"

Jogging up the stairs, Spike called over his shoulder, "The coffee table!"

Spike heard the old man sigh as he disappeared into the upstairs hallway and headed for his room.  After digging through his dresser for several minutes, the bleach blond started back down the stairs buttoning a new, fresh shirt.  

"I'll be back in awhile, Giles," he called, heading for the door.

"William, I think you should come see this."

"Giles, I'm already late enough as if is.  Anya's going-."

"To have to wait," the older man finished for him.  "You really need to see this."

Spike groaned.  God, at this rate, he was never-.

He blinked at the sight before him.  

There, standing on the apothecary table, were three young children.  

The oldest didn't look as if she were over twelve.  She was glaring at him evenly, her arms crossed and a deep frown on her face that reminded him a little too much of Dru whenever she used to catch him reading her diary.  

Beside her stood a young boy.  He was ten, maybe eleven, with reddish blond hair.  Unlike the girl, he seemed to be scared out of his wits, trying to take in the new surroundings.

And finally was the littlest one.  She looked to be six at the most, and was clinging onto her brother.  When she saw Spike was staring at her, she buried her face into the boy's side, in a desperate attempt to hide.

"What the bloody hell is this?" the bleach blond demanded.

A familiar smirk grew on the oldest lips.  

"Well, Uncle William, can we get off the coffee table now?"

*********** 


	2. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two**

"What do you mean, 'I'm their legal guardian'?!" 

Travers stifled a groan as he sat back in his chair and tried once more to explain.  "You signed the papers, they belong to you."

Spike could not believe what he was hearing.  An hour ago, his life had been simple.  He was the lead singer of Cellar Dwellers, who liked to party and drink and live the rock star life to the fullest.  Now, this lawyer was sitting here, telling him that he had basically just signed his life away because his sister had left him her three little brats?!  

"You - you tricked me!"

"I did no such thing.  I tried to tell you, but you weren't listening!"

"Well they can't bloody well stay here!"

"But they have nowhere else to go."  Travers calmed himself a bit and then said, "It's like I told you.  You are their only living relative.  If you don't take them, they'll be put into foster care.  Your sister didn't want that.  That was why she specifically left you as their guardian in case of her death."

Spike sighed at the mention of a foster home.  He never actually had to do a tour himself, but he did know those who had.  It was like playing Russian roulette with kid's lives.  Sometimes they got sent to a good home, sometimes they didn't.  Well, really, he couldn't imagine them _not ending up in a home better than this.  He was never home, and, when he was, it was definitely not a kid friendly environment.  _

Walking over to the office doorway, Spike peered into the living room at the three children seated on the couch.  

The two girls were facing one another, playing some version of patty cake that he had never seen before.  The oldest one was laughing at the youngest, who seemed to be concentrating with all her might to get the hand movements down correctly.

The boy sat off to the end by himself, staring at the television that was playing some brightly colored show.  Damn, cartoons sure had gotten a lot more violent than when Spike was a kid.

Could he really do that to them?  Could he really split them up and put them into foster care?  They had already lost their mum and da'. Could he really live with himself knowing that he had caused them to loose each other too?

But still…

"I don't know a thing 'bout raisin' kids," the bleached blond said, turning his attention back to Mr. Travers.  

The old man smiled at the younger, knowing his intentions even before Spike did himself.  Travers could see it in his face.  Though he might have wished he had later on, the rocker was not going to split those kids up.  

"No one does when they start out, son," the older Brit assured him, rising to his feet.  "And those who say they do are damn liars."

Giles, who had been reading over the aforementioned, signed document while they talked, looked up at the youngest Brit.  "You're actually considering taking them in?"

Spike glanced over towards him at the comment, but didn't say anything or give any indication of what he was thinking.  However, to Giles, it told him everything he needed to know.

"That is remarkably mature of you."

"Yeah, well, don't be gettin' all proud papa just yet.  I haven't-."

"William Barrett!  You get your punk ass out here NOW!!"

Anya?  Oh, God.  Cameron!

Spike quickly came into the living room and looked to the foyer where the voice had bellowed from.  There stood his agent, her eyes blazing as she directed the fires of hell on the singer with her gaze.  Never once in all the time he had known the little woman had he ever been afraid of her, but at that moment he wondered if perhaps the kids would end up in foster care anyway because Anya killed him.

"Spike!" he heard Xander call from outside.  "Watch out!  Anya's…" 

The brown-haired man skidded to a stop a little behind the agent, causing Oz to nearly run into him. 

"…here. How did she beat us here?" Xander turned and asked the green-haired bass player who could only shrug in answer.

The two men stood as far away from the young woman as they could, like she was some rabid pit bull that might turn on them at any moment.  But Anya already had her intended victim and didn't even seem to notice that they had arrived.

"Do you have _any_ idea what you've done?" Anya asked dangerously.  

Slowly, she began to stalk the bleached blonde as she came into the living room.  Defensively, Spike began to move backwards, trying to put as much space and furniture between him and the angry agent.  

"Anya, I can explain-."

"You blew off Cameron Michaels.  _Cameron Michaels_, Spike!  The host of RTV's top-rated show.  He can make or break your career.  And you blew him OFF!!!"

"Wow, you ditched on Cameron Michael?" Spike's eldest niece asked, looking rather amused and impressed.  "That's pretty cool."

Anya blinked, her anger towards the bleached blonde temporally forgotten as she stared at the young girl on his couch.

"Who's this?" she asked, looking at the child before turning her attention to the man she had been yelling at.  "Who's she?"

Even though it put him in danger of being in Anya's reach, Spike slowly moved closer to the children.  Besides, he was pretty sure she wouldn't hurt the preteen crowd.  After all, they were the next generation of consumers that she was always trying to target.

"Anya, this is my niece, um…"  God, had they even told him their names?!  

Any admiration that the prepubescent had for her uncle after finding out he ditched on LiveWire's host vanished when he was unable to recall her name.  Instead, the even, tight frown returned as she turned back to the agent and introduced herself.

"I'm Dawn."  She glanced down the couch to her sister and brother.  "That's Tara and Andrew."

"Hey," Andrew said nervously, having nowhere near the courage that his older sister seemed to posses.  He looked as if he wanted to disappear into the couch, especially when Anya turned to look at him.

Tara was even worse.  When the attention was on her, she moved right up against her big brother, trying her best to hide behind him.

"Niece?" Xander finally spoke up, coming into the living room.  He was standing right beside their agent, his fear of the woman temporally forgotten.  "Since when did you get a niece?  And why don't they sound all British-y?"

"Apparently he got one about twelve years ago," Oz said, watching the kids from off to the side.  

This was the bass-player's way.  Observe the people presented, size them up by their responses, then proceed to not say anything to them anyway.

"And we're from New York," Dawn answered, but she was pretty sure no one was listening to her.

"I only found out 'bout 'em an hour ago."  Spike sighed as he came around the couch and flopped down into the matching armchair.  "And guess what my dear sis left me…"

"You mean they're yours now?" Anya asked, assimilating the information into her brain.  

Nodding his head, the singer said, "Yeah.  Apparently, I'm now their legal guardian."

The agent stared at him for a long moment, her mouth hanging open slightly.  Spike couldn't decide whether she was about to pass out, or perhaps start screaming at him again for his stupidity.  

"Um, Giles, you might want to take the kiddies into the kitchen." _Before Anya castrates me_, he added silently.

The older Brit nodded his head, knowing why the younger one wanted them gone.  The spectacle put on by the agent was only a slight taste of what she could really be like once her anger took over.

"Come along, children.  Let's get you something to eat," he said, spreading his arms out like a mother hen gathering her chicks.

The two youngest followed without question, but Dawn looked as if she were ready to protest.  She turned a heated glare towards Travers, who had been silently watching from the office door.  Returning his own stony glare, he jerked his chin in a silent order for the child to follow.  After making that loud, annoyed sigh that only teenagers could do while rolling their eyes, she got up and left the room.

When the children disappeared with Giles into the kitchen, Travers spoke up.

"Perhaps I should be on my way.  I will contact you tomorrow to go over the rest of your sister's affairs," the old man said, basically fleeing out the door.

Damn coward.  

Too bad he couldn't do that.

Spike turned back to Anya and prepared himself for the worst as she began to speak once more.

"This is…wonderful!"

_'What?'_

"What?"

"What?!" Xander and Oz echoed in unison.

However, the woman had not heard any of them. "Spike, don't you understand?  You've stumbled onto a publicist's wet dream!"  A starry glaze appeared in her eyes, the same one she had whenever she had a brilliant idea for marketing her clients.  Lifting her hands, she spread them in front of her.  "Can't you see it?  'Rocker Takes in Nieces and Nephew After Parents' – It was parents right?"

"Yes."

She returned to the pose.  "'Rocker Takes in Nieces and Nephew After Parents' Tragic Death.'  You'll be on every magazine cover from here to Timbuktu!  It's like the ultimate way to get publicity that cannot back fire because you are the hero.  The kind hearted uncle who takes in these poor children."

"God, Anya," Xander said, staring at the woman in disbelief.  "If I loose an eye in a wining accident, would you say that it was my way of speaking against alcohol?"

The agent rolled her eyes.  "Oh, get off your high horse, Harris.  I'm just stating what will most likely occur once the press finds out about this.  I mean, yeah, it's bad that their parents died and everything, but it's not like we can help that they made Spike look like this really great guy by leaving him their brats."

"Looks like those sensitivity classes are really paying off," Oz said dryly, adding his own disapproval to the whole idea in his own stoic way.

"Anya, have you forgotten that this means I will actually have to _raise_ these children?  How the bloody hell am I supposed to do that?"

"I don't know," she said dismissively, lost in her own thoughts of how this whole thing was going to work to their advantage.  "Do what you rich people always do: hire someone else to do it."

"You want me to hire a soddin' nanny?!"

*********** 

"So, what?  You're like the butler or something?" Dawn asked, trailing behind Giles into the kitchen. 

Andrew and Tara had already seated themselves at the island before their big sister came to join them.  

"No, I am not the butler," Giles said rather evenly as he pulled on an apron to start to prepare the children something to eat.  "I simply take care of the affairs around the house, but I am most certainly _not_ William's butler.  Or yours for that matter."

"Yeah, I can see the big difference there," Dawn said sarcastically which caused the Brit to glare at her.  She threw him a sweet, 'bite me' smile.  

Yes, this child was definitely related to William.

"What do you three want to eat?" he asked, ignoring the oldest look.

"Pizza," Dawn answered quickly.

Andrew said right after her, "I want a burger."

The youngest pushed herself high on the barstool and leaned over to whisper something into her brother's ear.

"And Tara says she wants tacos."

Giles blinked at the order.  Who did they think he was?  Some short order cook?  "Three ham sandwiches it is."

Sighing, the oldest rolled her eyes then said, "You'll have to make Tara's a peanut butter sandwich.  She doesn't eat anything that she knows is pork."

"Why not?"

"Oh, because a certain brother kept referring to his pork chop as 'Babe, the other white meat,'" she explained.  

A guilty look passed over Andrew's feature with a nervous smile before he found a particularly interesting spot on the ceiling to look at.

"Very well.  I think we have some peanut butter in the pantry."

When the older man disappeared into an adjoining room, Dawn turned to the two younger children who sat at her side.  She jerked her head back towards the living room, silently ordering that one of them to go and investigate.  Her two siblings nodded in agreement before Andrew got up to do the job.

"I hope this is still good," Giles said as he reappeared in the kitchen, eyeing the large jar of JIF suspiciously.  When he put it down, he noticed that there were now only two children waiting instead of three.  "Where did Andrew go?"

"Um, he had to, ah, go to the bathroom," Dawn answered, trying to lie as smoothly as she could.  "He'll, ah, be back in a minute."

"Perhaps I should go with him and show him where it is," the older man said, starting to make his way after the boy.

"NO!  I mean, no.  H-he'll find it.  He's, um, like a blood hound when it, ah, comes to finding…places."  The brown-haired girl smiled innocently at Giles, with Tara following suit.  

The older man raised an eyebrow at this act.  Though it had been quiet a few years since he had dealt with children this age, he did remember it pretty well.  They were trying to pull something on him, but what he didn't know.

"Dawn!" they heard the young boy exclaim as he came charging back into the room.  When he found Giles was back, he skidded to a stop on the tile floor, nearly causing him to spill onto the ground.  That same nervous smile the child had had all night once again emerged on his face as he looked to the older man.

"Did you find the restroom alright?" Giles asked, though he knew that had not been what the child was doing. Especially considering that the nearest bathroom was on the other side of the house…in the opposite direction that he had come from.

"Restroom?" the boy repeated, not following.

"Yeah, Andrew.  You went to find bathroom, _remember?" Dawn said, her tone clearly saying 'play along.'_

"Oh, right, yeah.  I found it, no problem."

Normally, Giles would have busted them both for lying, but the kids had been through a lot lately, so he'd give them a break just this once.  Next time, though, they would learn why their mother and uncle used to refer to him as Ripper.

"What would you like on your sandwich?" the British man asked, letting the subject drop.

Letting out a breath of relief, the young boy headed back to the counter where his sisters sat and retook his stool.  "Cheese, please."

"Dawn?"

"Mustard," she said before leaning in close to her little brother.  "What did you hear?"

"Not much," he whispered back.  "But I guess he's going to keep us 'cause he said something about getting a nanny."

"A nanny?!" 

Dawn winced at how loud her voice had gotten, then glanced over her shoulder to make sure Giles hadn't heard her.  Sure enough, the 'non' butler still had his head stuck in the refrigerator so he couldn't have heard.  Sighing, the preteen turned back to her little brother.  

"Just what we need, another stranger telling us what to do," she said with a frown.  "Well, we'll just see about that.  Won't we?"

********** 

Willow sighed as she walked down the aisle, staring at the assortment of different candies and chips.  Let's see, she needed comfort food and lots of it.  Not for herself, of course, but there was an upset blonde back at the apartment waiting to start a night of 'Why all men, especially famous ones, should be dragged out onto the street and shot at dawn.'  

It hadn't helped that they had turned on the TV only to see _that man – well, Buffy had reclassified his evolution status as a scum-sucking parasite – was going to be featured on the ex-waitress's favorite show, LiveWire with Cameron Michaels, either.  Willow had barely kept her friend from drop kicking the television when the bleached blonde's picture was shown.  And Buffy was a whole lot stronger than she looked, too.  The redhead was sure that she was going to have bruises in the morning._

God, Willow hoped Buffy didn't find her Cellar Dwellers CD in the stereo.  She could replace a CD easily, but that stereo had been a graduation present and was expensive.

Musing to herself, the redhead walked the length of the isle.  "Let's see: Snickers, Three Musketeers, and Doritos.  What else?"  

Her eyes scanned the shelves until they came to rest on a small box stuck off to the side.  

Animal crackers?  She didn't even know that they still made those.  Willow remembered that she used to love them as a kid, but it had been at least ten years since she had had any.  Well, since most of this stuff was for Buffy, the redhead was sure the blonde wouldn't mind if she picked something up for herself.

As she grabbed the box, another hand appeared seemingly out of nowhere and covered hers in an attempt to take the same product.

"Oh, sorry," she and the owner of the hand said together.

The young woman looked up and felt her jaw drop.  There, knelt down with her, was Daniel Osborne.

Oz smiled at the redhead before him who was staring at him like he was some sort of sign from heaven she had been praying for but never expected to get.  

He and Xander had just left Spike to listen to Anya go on about how wonderful his sister was for leaving him her three kids and how much publicity they were going to receive.  That was Anya for you.  She didn't mean to be so insensitive, well most of the time anyway.  And she probably would start to feel bad for the kids once she stopped thinking about how much money they were going to bring in for the band and herself.

After dropping Xander off at his apartment – not all of them could afford nice houses like Spike since they didn't come from 'old money' – Oz had felt like getting a late night snack.  So, he headed for the one place he knew carried his favorite cookie, the animal cracker, Bob's KWIK Stop.  However, he never thought that someone else would want them, let alone anyone as cute as this girl.

Slowly, the two rose up, still staring at one another.  Willow was surprised to find out that he was hardly any taller than her.  Funny, for some reason, she always pictured him taller.  Even when she saw him that morning in the restaurant, she had thought so.  But, he had been sitting down and was pretty far away from her when they left.

"So, you like animal crackers?" he asked.

Willow blinked from the question before glancing down at her hand that held the box.  "Huh?  Oh, um, yeah.  I like animal crackers." '_And flowers and pretty rainbows.  God, he must think I sound like I'm five!'_ she thought, barely suppressing a groan.

"Me too.  Although, I've always wondered if the other animals were jealous of the monkey."

"Huh?"

"Well, he's the only one that gets to wear pants.  Just seems like maybe the other animals would have liked to wear a shirt or pants too, you know," the green-haired bass player explained. 

"I, ah, guess I never thought about it," she said, glancing down at the box in her hand once more.

"Most people don't, but it's a big issue in the animal world."  He paused for a moment, and watched her smile.  "I'm Oz."

"Oh, I know who you are - but not, like, in that stalker-y kind of way that I just said it, I just mean, I know who you are because you play in that band, Cellar Dwellers, which you already know the name of 'cause it's your group, so no reason for me to remind you of the name, which I think is kind of cool but I don't know what it means and-and I have a tendency to babble so just shut me up whenever you feel like because if you don't I'll probably ramble on until I pass out from lack of air which would be bad because of obvious reasons and-and…" 

The redhead felt her face burning from embarrassment but just couldn't make herself shut up.  However, Oz just chuckled slightly, but not in a mocking way, it was in more of 'I think it's cute' kind of way.

"I'm Willow," she finally just stated.

"Nice to meet you."  He looked down at her hand that still held the package of cookies, then asked, "So, Willow, do you want to share a box of animal crackers?"

"Okay," she said dumbly.

Buffy was going to have to be on her own tonight.

********** 


	3. Chapter Three

AN:  Sorry about the delay between updates, it's just school started back and I've been busy for the past couple of weeks.  Anyway, thanks for the nice reviews, and, hopefully, the next chapter will be out soon.  Oh, and sorry about the shortness of this chapter.  I'll try and make the next one longer.

**~*~**

**Chapter Three**

The last three weeks had been a living hell.

Anya had been true to her word, the whole world had found out about what Spike had done and now everyone wanted a piece of him or the Cellar Dwellers.  People who would have never even considered bringing the band on their show had been calling just so they could do an interview.  

And the news programs and talk shows? Forget it. The bidding war had been rather interesting to watch, though.  Babs had won, of course.  When you're offered a contract to do what would insure that your band would be playing on New Years Eve in New York and would have its own special on RTV, it tends to seal the deal.

But networks hadn't been the only people at war.  His home had turned into a regular Gettysburg, with a string of nanny's as the casualties.  Even the milk was starting to outlast these paid professionals.

The last one hadn't even lasted two days.  Two days!  How the bloody hell those kids had managed to get ride of her that fast was beyond him.  

Lord, this was enough to drive anyone-

"AAHHH!!"

Oh, no.  Not another one.

Spike jumped off the couch, the guitar he had been strumming falling to the side as he viewed the latest victim charging down the stairs.

"What's goin' on?!" he demanded, hurrying to try and cut her off.

But the gray-haired woman pushed right past him, a small suitcase swing at her side as she headed for the closet.

"Where are you goin'?"

Grabbing her coat, the older woman slammed the door shut and glared at the bleached blond.  

"Away.  Far, far away from those…_children_!" 

She heatedly pulled on the jacket, taking out her frustrations on the poor piece of clothing.  

"Mr. Barrett, I have been employed as a nanny for more than thirty years and have had my share of unruly children before.  But never – _never! - have I had to deal with heathens such as those!"  Once she was ready to leave, she picked up the suitcase, squared her shoulders and lifted her chin before she said, "You do not need a nanny, Mr. Barrett.  You need an exorcist!"_

Then, professional childcare giver number five was gone from their lives.

Spike groaned as he turned from the door, his hands grabbing the side of his head in anticipation of a headache.  Yeah, he might not know anything about kids, but he most certainly knew that this could not be normal child behavior.  Even he and Dru had not been this bad.  Maybe having a young priest and an old priest come out and take a look at the three wouldn't be such a bad idea.

Although, _someone has been enjoying the children's behavior.  Giles had been rather amused lately whenever Spike would start to complain about the kids and how they were driving him crazy.  Though the older British man would never say it, the look on his face had clearly said, 'Pay back's a bitch, isn't it, Spikie?'_

"So, I take it Ms. Robins will no longer be under your employment," he heard Dawn say.

Spike dropped his hands and looked up the stairs to find his eldest niece and nephew standing there.  The preteen had a Cheshire cat grin on her face as she crossed her arms over her chest.

"Too bad.  I was starting to like her."

"What did you two do to that woman?" Spike demanded, glaring at what was left of his family.

Placing her hand over her heart with a mocking insulted look on her face, Dawn asked, "Why, dear Uncle William, whatever do you mean?"

"Don't call me that and you know what I mean, Scarlet.  She didn't even last…" He glanced down at his watch.  "Nine hours?!  You two managed to get a professional to quit in less than nine hours?!"

"Nine hours?" she repeated with a smile and sounding rather proud of herself.  "Hear that, Andrew? We've got a new record."

"This is not a bloody game!"

"You're just saying that because you're losing, _Spike."  Before he could reply, the prepubescent turned on her heels and headed back up the stairs, dragging her little brother along with her.  "Come on.  We've got to strategize for the next one."_

The singer groaned again, grabbing the side of his head.  

He thought back to a concert the band had played out in Las Vegas a few years back, when they were just starting to get popular.  It had been an outdoor performance, and, after baking in the sun all day during rehearsal, they had nearly frozen to death that night when it came time for the show.  

Afterwards, he, the poof, and Harris, who was a partier then, had gone out and gotten good and pissed.  None of them could recall much from that night, only a few pieces here and there that involved the cops, gambling, a transvestite, and a chicken.  The next morning, Spike found himself in a Vegas hospital, suffering from second degree burns, a sprained wrist, and alcohol poisoning.  He remembered he had been sick, miserable, and in some of the worse physical pain he had ever experienced thanks to the placement of the burns.

Now, after living with those children, he longed to be back in that hospital room.

********** 

Buffy was at a loss as to what to do.

After losing her job at the restaurant, she had been unable to locate a new one…well, one that would allow her to keep her top on anyway.  No one was hiring.  But with the economy in the preverbal toilet, should she really be all that surprised?  

At first, she had looked at the impromptu vacation as an opportunity to focus on her acting career.  After all, that had been the reason she had moved from Sunnydale to LA in the first place.  She was going to live the American dream of going to Hollywood, becoming a big star with lots and lots of money, and living in a huge house in Malibu or Beverly Hills or, hell, maybe both.  The only thing that the dream failed to mention was all the years of rejection and having to work odd jobs to make ends meet.  Now, she couldn't even do that.

Stupid rock star.  If she ever saw him again, she was going make sure that he could only sing soprano from then on.

"What am I going to do?" Buffy groaned, flopping sideways to lay on her couch with her face buried in her throw pillow.

"Well, how much money do you have left?" Willow asked, sitting down Indian style on the other side of the coffee table.

The redhead lived in the apartment directly across the blonde.  They had met the first day that Buffy had moved there, and she had been surprised to find that another Sunnydaler had come to LA as well.  

Willow had graduated about two years ahead of Buffy, thanks to accelerated classes.  She had been attending UCLA, up until her sophomore year when she got involved in some nasty stuff.  She's better now, but it took awhile.  In the meantime, she had lost her scholarship, and was now reduced to being a waitress instead of running some computer company like she should be.  

It was sad, really, but that was life sometimes.

"Let's put it this way.  I got a notice the other day that said they haven't received my final payment on this lovely furniture.  I was going to write them back and say 'Yes. You have' but I couldn't afford the stamp," Buffy told her, contemplating the merit of smothering herself with the pillow.

"Ouch."

"Big ouch.  Which brings me back to my original question.  What am I going to do?  The rent is only paid up until the end of the month and you know Parker.  He'll toss me out of here faster then you can say 'Slum Lord.'"

Stupid dignity.  If she didn't have that, she could have a job right now shaking her butt up on a stage while grungy businessmen literally threw money at her.  Stupid mother for instilling stupid dignity in her in the first place.

"Well, I guess if things got real bad you could always just move back home."

Buffy lifted her head to glare heatedly at the redhead. 

"Or not."

"I'm not running back to Sunnydale, with everyone looking at me like 'I told you so.'  It'll get better. I just have to, you know, give it time.  Something will come up soon…right?"

The blonde looked hopefully to her friend, silently begging her to say that it would all be okay.

"Yeah, it'll work out.  You'll see.  And, if you, you know, do get kicked out, you can come stay with me if you have to."

"Thanks, Wills," Buffy smiled at the statement, then pushed herself upright before sliding to the floor to sit across from her friend.  "Now that that is settled, tell me about this new guy you've been seeing that you don't think I know about."

********** 

The Caritas was the watering hole for the Cellar Dwellers.  Before Spike's life had been invaded by three rambunctious ankle bitters, the band had generally made it a point to meet there at least once a week to just hang out.  Work was not to be mentioned here, even if it was a karaoke bar.  

Alright, so these kinds of bars weren't the coolest places in the world, but they generally didn't have to worry about anyone they knew recognizing them here.  And the owner was cool, in that Liberace kind of way.

Spike spotted his friends at their regular table in the back as soon as he walked in.  

Anya was with them tonight, dressed casually instead of those power suits she was generally so fond of wearing.  She was actually kind of pretty, he supposed.  Well, she would be if he didn't know how damn evil she really was.

Oz's new girl, Red, was there tonight too.  She seemed like a good girl, very polite if not a bit flaky when you first met her.  But she had relaxed into the group over the past few weeks and was actually becoming a good friend to all of them.  

Well, expect for Spike.  She was nice enough to him, but he could sense some underlying uneasiness she had when he was around.  Some of that had dissipated when she heard the story about the kids; from Oz, not from the TV or magazines.  But still, there was something in the way she looked at him, like she wanted to be his friend, but couldn't for some reason or another.

Xander was the first to spot him.  "Hey, look who finally made it out of the house."

The bleached blonde sighed, taking his seat before signaling to the waitress to bring him a beer. "Yeah, well, I only had to pay Giles time and a half to make it out of there."

Everyone present knew what that meant.  If Giles was back at the house watching the kids, even though his day was supposed to be through, that means-

"They got her to quit already?" Angel asked.

"Yep.  She didn't even make it 'til five o'clock."

The group sat in silence for a moment.

"Damn, those kids are good," Xander finally mused aloud.

"Too good," Spike agreed as a frosty glass of hops was placed before him.  He downed half of it before telling them, "So good in fact, that I've been blacklisted.  No nanny this side of the Rio Grande will come near my house."

"What?  You're kidding!"

Sullenly, the singer shook his head no.  

He had been blacklisted, by a place called 'Lot's 'o Love Nanny Agency' no less.  Spike had been banned from many places before – bars, clubs, and he was pretty sure St. Louis – but from a nanny agency?!  Now that was just down right embarrassing.

"Dawn's the one that was doin' it all," he explained, tracing his finger on the rim of his glass as if mourning some lost love.  "She's just Pie Pipperin' the other two.  They go along with whatever she says, and then another nanny bites the dust."

Turning in his seat, Spike glared at his agent.

"Well, Anya, you got any more bright ideas in that pretty little head of yours 'bout what I should do?"

"Buy a cattle prod," she said with a shrug, taking a sip of her drink. "That'll teach those kids."

"Anya!" Xander snapped.

"What?"

"Have you thought about boarding school?" Willow asked meekly from next to Oz, ignoring the agent and the guitar player.

He actually had…a lot.  He had even investigated a military school in hopes that they weren't just for boys anymore.  Turns out the good ones are still only for men.  Damn it.

Spike opened his mouth to answer, but Anya quickly cut him off.  

"Boarding school?!  I don't _think_ so.  He's been made out to be this great uncle who wants to take care of those kids. If he was to send them off to some Swedish boarding school the press would crucify him and the band.  He might as well kill those kids in their sleep as send them there."

"Then what do you suggest I do?" Spike asked heatedly.  "Besides resort to child abuse?" 

"Find someone new," she said simply.  "There's a butt load of unemployed people out there. Sure, they might not have any experience, but that's better than nothing."

"Well, he's going to need someone who can control those kids, Anya," Angel stated, taking another sip of his beer.

"Also, someone who won't take Dawn's crap," Spike added.

The green-haired bass player went on, "Someone who will work for minimum wage and live in that tiny room you're providing."

"Not to mention someone who wears flame retardant clothing," Xander added dryly, bringing his drink up to his lips.

"How is Mrs. Oliver anyway?" asked Oz.

Shrugging, the bleach blond took another drink from his beer.  "The agency said her eyebrows are finally startin' to grow back, but she still havin' to wear the wig."  

Spike sighed as he leaned back in his chair and stared at his now empty glass.  

"Experienced or not, where am I goin' to find someone like that who is desperate enough to take on those monsters?"

The group went silent again when the question was posed.  It was one thing to say what kind of person he needed. Unfortunately, it was quite another to actually find them.  And when the nanny agency has given up on finding the right person, what chance, really, did they have of finding her?

Actually, the longer they sat there, the better and better Anya's cattle prod idea was sounding.

Chewing lightly on her bottom lip, Willow slowly rose her hand, praying she was not going to die from what she was about to say.  But Spike just looked so sad, and really did need help.  And it would be work.  She would just have to push that point.  It's work, a free place to live and free food.  Yeah, she'll go for that…the redhead hoped anyway.

_'Oh, God, please don't let her kill me for this_.'

"Um, I might know somebody." 

********** 


	4. Chapter Four

AN: Hey.

Wow, thanks for all the great reviews.  I just love hearing from you guys.  And look, I promised a longer chapter and here it is. Hope you guys enjoy.

**********

**Chapter Four**

Willow sat up on the overstuffed couch, nervously playing with the hem of her skirt as she bit down on the inside of her lip.  There were a few other people present in the waiting room – an agent or two and some girl named Rona who had not stopped talking on her cell since the redhead had walked in – but the place was mostly empty.   

The station's broadcast was being pumped in through unseen speakers, but the volume was so low that it became little more than background noise to the continuous phone rings followed by the receptionist's voice. The young woman popped her gum loudly, like answering the phone was an annoyance she had to deal with that was interrupting her more pressing business: filing her nails with an emery board.

The redhead glanced up at the large clock that was mounted on the wall.  It looked like the one that was in all the classrooms back in high school, and was ticking away painfully slow and far too quickly at the same time.  Each second that past meant that she was one second closer to being back with her boyfriend.  However, each passing second also meant that it was getting closer and closer to her meeting with Buffy.

She was going to see the ex-waitress once they were finished here to discuss the job Willow had told her about.   Buffy had been so excited that she had found one that she had failed to ask some of the important questions; 'Who exactly is William Barrett and how do you know him?' being the one that stood out the most.  The only two things she had seemed to understand were a) she'd be working as a nanny, which means free room and board and b) she'd get to keep her top on.  After that, she couldn't have cared less what Willow was babbling about.  

That was Buffy for you.  All excitement and nervous energy, up until she realized who she'd be working for, then…

God, Willow hoped there wouldn't be a homicide.

_'Now, that's no way to think.  Buffy is an adult.  She will understand that she should put her disgust and hatred toward Spike aside.  He was offering her a job after all.  A good job and opportunities like these just didn't come along every day.  Surely she won't jeopardize her future in LA because of some stupid little fight.  _

_'Right?___

_'Oh, God.__  She's going to die.  Buffy is going to kill Spike and then turn on her!  Tomorrow's headline is going to read 'Rocker and Stupid Friend Die in Double Homicide.'  And Buffy is poor, so she can afford a great lawyer, and she will spend the rest of her life in jail and it will be all Willow's fault because she felt sorry for Spike and his kids will be put into foster care because she got him killed and the band will-.'_

A loud tapping caused the redhead to jump, throwing her out of her babbling train of thought.  She turned sharply in her seat to the large, plate glass window that looked out onto one of the streets of LA.  Buffy stood there, a large smile on her face as she waved to her friend.  Before Willow could react, Buffy had disappeared down the street and made for the station's door.

"Hey, Wills," the blonde said in a bubbly tone, a shopping bag swinging at her side.

"Buffy!" The name came out as a strangled cry.  Clearing her throat, Willow prayed that her friend hadn't noticed before she continued with a nervous tone.  "What are you doing here?  I-I though we were going to, you know, meet at the restaurant."

"We were," she confirmed, apparently having not taken notice of the tone.  "But I wanted to get a new outfit before I met the boss so he wouldn't think that I'm not classy or something.  I mean, he wants me to be a nanny, which means he's got money right?  He wouldn't want some slob he pulled off the street looking after his kids.  Well, I guess he kind of does, but I want to make a good first impression."

"They're actually his nieces and nephew," Willow heard herself saying, not really paying attention to her friend.  

The interview the guys were at would be over in less than five minutes, and she had to get Buffy out of there before then.  

She needed to prepare the blonde.  She needed to prepare herself.  She needed to be somewhere where there would be too many witnesses for Buffy to try anything!

"Really?  Why does he have them?"

Willow glanced nervously toward the ceiling where the interview was being played.  The guys were still talking with the DJ.  Thank God Buffy hadn't noticed…yet.

"They're, um, parents died," the redhead informed her.  "Car accident," she added before the blonde could ask.

"Oh, God, I'm sorry to hear that.  And here I am so happy about getting a job and those poor kids-."

Willow tuned the blonde out, her hearing focusing in on the conversation above.

_"I want to thank you guys for coming in.  I know you've had a busy schedule lately and I'm glad you decided to squeeze us into it," _the DJ said.__

_"No prob, Rob," _Xander's voice answered, sounding as if he really was having fun.__

_"Right enjoyed it," _Spike added.__

Willow's eyes widened as Rob the DJ got the band to do the typical 'What's your favorite station' tag before she turned her attention back to the still babbling Buffy.

"You have to leave.  Now!" the redhead blurted, spinning the blonde around and leading her towards the door.

"What?" Buffy asked, stumbling slightly from her friend's push.  "Willow?"

After regaining her footing, the blonde turned a heated glare towards her.  Normally, this would have caused Willow to worry, but she was even more terrified of what Buffy would do with the sudden introduction of the bane of her existence if the redhead didn't get rid of her now.

In the back of her mind, she was picturing Spike and Oz and the others coming out of the booth, laughing and talking with one another and the DJ.  They'd shake hands, then head for the lobby where they had left her earlier.  Anya would be trailing along with them, probably telling them what interview or show they had to do next.  Then, they would round the front desk, and see her and Buffy and then…

Willow had to think of something fast.  So, she blurted the first thing she thought of.

"Your hair!"

Buffy flinched from the outburst before an offended yet hurt look appeared on her face.  Reaching up with her free hand, the blonde patted at her head, feeling for any bumps that might have arisen in the ponytail while she tried on outfits earlier.

"What's wrong with it?" Buffy asked, not able to find anything wrong.

"Well, um, it-it, ah…needs to be fixed.  Yeah, that's it.  You need to, ah, fix it before lunch.  Yeah, 'cause, you know, first impression and all."

The redhead had such a large smile on her face that her cheeks literally hurt.  It looked almost like she was baring her teeth at Buffy instead of smiling, which caused the blonde to raise an eyebrow at her friend.

"Are you feeling okay, Willow?" she asked cautiously.

"Fine," the waitress squeaked a little too quickly.  Clearing her throat, she added, "I just want you to look your best."

Buffy continued to eye her friend.  The look clearly said that she knew that Willow wasn't telling her something, but she didn't know what.  The only thing the redhead could do was continue to smile, and pray that the blonde couldn't hear her pounding heart.  Oh, and that Spike and the others had stopped to sign an autograph or for water or something to keep them away for just a few more minutes…

"O-kay," her friend said, drawing the word out slowly.  Turning towards the door, she continued, "I guess I'll see you at the restaurant in a little while, then."

"Yeah," Willow agreed, hurrying forward to hold the door open for her.  "Sampson at one-thirty.  I'll be there waiting for you."

Buffy was still watching her suspiciously, but headed out into the street.  "Alright.  Bye, Wills."

"Bye, Buffy," the redhead called cheerily, doing her best to sound normal and failing at it miserably.

When the blonde rounded the corner, she dropped the act and slumped in relief.  Buffy probably thought she was on crack or something, but at least she was gone for now.  They still had an hour before the LA Massacre occurred. 

"Goin' somewhere, Red?"

Willow whipped her head towards the voice and found the group standing beside the receptionist desk, staring at her oddly.  Well, the guys were.  Anya had her back to them, yacking away on her cell phone.  

"Huh?  Oh, no!  I, ah, just saw a friend of mine is all."

"That the bird you were telling me about?"

Scrunching her nose, Willow looked to Oz.  "Bird?  What bird?  There wasn't any bird."

"He means, was that the girl for the nanny job?" Xander explained, coming to join his new friend.  He draped his arm across her shoulders.  "You got to forgive Spike.  He forgets sometimes that we speak normal English here in the good 'ole US of A.  Not that funky Britishese that he likes."

After staring at the guitar player for a moment, the bleached blonde wondered aloud, "That hamster finally fell of the wheel and died, didn't it, Harris?"

"Hey!"

"Um, yeah, that was her," Willow said, glancing over her shoulder to the door as if by saying it, her friend would magically reappear.  Swallowing hard, the redhead decided that perhaps she should start to prepare Spike for what was about to come.  "There-there's something I should tell you about her, though."

"What?  She a rabid fan?" Angel asked smugly, twisting his ever present drumstick in his hand.

"No, she's not a fan," Willow answered carefully, with a touch of guilt.  Okay, she would just explain the situation.  After all, it's not like Spike hadn't ever worked with someone who hated him before.  "Buffy's-."

"Wills, I wanted to ask you, why are you at a…?"

The redhead felt her heart stop upon hearing her best friend's voice.  _Guess saying her name really was able to summon her._

In what felt like slow motion, she turned to face the blonde who had come back to the radio station.  For a split second, Willow thought that perhaps she could just pretend like everything was normal; that her friend's evil rock star from hell was not standing right there.  But no matter what Willow did, she knew it wasn't going to make a difference.  Buffy's target had been acquired.

"_You_," the blonde hissed dangerously at the lead singer.

Xander moved away from Willow and towards the wall, his fear of the little blonde girl evident.  

Angel stopped twirling the drumstick, his eyes wide as he stared at her.  

Even Oz took a step to back out of her way.

The only one who hadn't noticed, of course, was Anya. She was still chatting away on her phone.

Spike tilted his head to the side, considering the young woman who had just wandered off the street and was staring at him like she was about to kill him.

"Do I know you?" he asked innocently.

Willow wouldn't be able to recall years later, for sure, but she would have sworn she heard Buffy growl, and not some little kitten growl either.  It was a deep throat, predatory, 'I'm the lion, you're the slow moving water buffalo' kind of growl.  

Oh, God.  They were about to die.

From the waiting room, Willow heard that Rona girl say into her phone.

"I'm going to have to call you back.  Some stupid white boy is about to be murdered in the lobby."

********** 

Spike watched the young woman with a great deal of curiosity.  There was something about her that he couldn't quite put his finger on.  She just looked so damn familiar, especially with that 'I'm about to kill you' look on her face.  But, then, he knew a lot of women who bore that same expression whenever they came across him.

"Do you know me?" the angry blonde asked in a disbelieving tone.  "Do you know me?  Yeah, _Spike_, I'd say you do.  You only _ruined my life is all."  Upon seeing that her statement did little to jog his memory, she added, "I know this might hurt, but think real hard.  About a month back."_

The bleached blonde considered her carefully.  Blondes, blondes, who does he know that's blonde and from a month ago?  What was that groupie girl's name from awhile back?  The stupid one that lived up to the whole 'blonde' status…

"Harmony?"

Her eyes narrow a little, as something she said suddenly stuck him.  

_'You only ruined my life is all.'_

"Bloody hell - You're not knocked up are you?"

That caused Anya to blink, the phrase catching her off guard enough to bring her into situation she had blocked out.

"Knocked up?  Who's knocked up?" the agent asked as turned around to face the others.  Though the statement went unheard, Anya said to the blonde, "Hey, I know you."

"'Cause I've got kids comin' out of my ears as is," Spike continued to ramble, the terrifying thought that he would actually have a genetic link to that bubble brained bint sending chills down his spine.  

"Oh, like I would _ever_ let you come near me, you bleached blonde mother-."

"Buffy!" Willow cut her off quickly, trying wedge herself between the two.  The angry young woman turned her heated gaze on her friend, who was mentally kicking herself for being dumb enough to put herself in this situation.  "Just…calm down, okay?"

Buffy's eyes widened for a moment from surprise that Willow, who knew how much she hated this guy, had actually told her to calm down; then they narrowed again.  Something was up.

"Willow," she said carefully.

"You know this psycho, Red?"

The redhead felt her blood stop flowing in her veins.  

Oh, so this was what it feels like right before you die.

Preparing herself for the worst, the young waitress watched as her friend's eyes grew to the size of saucers before Buffy exclaimed, "You know _him_?!  You know him and didn't tell me?"

"Well…"

"Willow!"

"Well, I-I didn't meet him until, um…after, and-and you already hated him so much, and, ah, I couldn't exactly tell you cause…well, this, but he's really not that bad and-and you need the job, and I felt bad and, and-."

"Whoa, wait a minute, Red," the nearly forgotten singer said, cutting off her rambling.  "Job?"

Nervously, the redhead grinned as she looked from one blonde to another.  Their faces mirrored one another with that same 'this better involve a hit man of some sort' expression.

Swallowing hard, the young waitress answered, "Um, Buffy's the bird."

********* 

If someone on the street happened to walk past the large window that looked into the radio station's lobby, they probably would have thought that the people inside were watching some weird tennis match.  Every few seconds, as if they had practiced it, the group would collectively turn their heads to look at something, before returning them back to the original position.  If the outside observer moved closer and peered inside, they would have seen the two blonds yelling at one another, or at the small redhead girl stuck between them.  And, if they were to judge by the trapped girl, they probably would be grateful that the glass was soundproof.  At least, mothers of small children would be.

Finally, the young female blonde had enough of whatever was said, turned on her heels, and headed out the door; the redhead following close behind, dragging the bleached blonde with her.

"No!" Buffy exclaimed for what seemed like the hundredth time as she stormed out onto the street.  

"Buffy, wait!" Willow yelled, grabbing her friend's wrist to make her stop.

Spinning around to face the redhead, the blonde repeated, "No, Wills.  No way.  No how.  Not going to happen.  And nothing you say will change my mind."

"It's work for Spike or starvation."

"Fine.  I choose starvation."

"Buffy…"

"Not like I'd hire you anyway," Spike said smugly, wondering exactly why Red had dragged him out there in the first place.  

The little blonde turned her attention back to the rock star that had started this whole mess.  Besides, she was more interesting in harming him than Willow.  

"What's wrong with hiring me?!"

"Besides the fact that you're just a little off balanced?"

Offended, Buffy stammered angrily, "I am not off balanced!  I'm Balance Girl!  There's a whole lot of balance going on here, mister!"

"Right.  I can clearly see that 'cause all stable people go around actin' like lunatics!" he bit sarcastically.

"Well, you obviously haven't been in LA for too long, now have you?" she snapped back.  "You stupid bleached moron!"

"Oh, come up with that one all by yourself, love?"

"Bite me, Peroxide Boy."

"Bitch."

"Jerk."

"Harlot."

"No talent!"

"Trollop!"

"Punk rocker wannabe!" 

"That's enough!" Willow screamed at the top of her lungs, bringing the two bickering blonde's attention back to the forgotten redhead.  

They looked at her with wide eyes, appearing almost like small children who had just realized that their mother was tired of hearing them argue and was now ready to deal out a punishment.  And Willow looked more than willing to do just that.

First, she turned to her long time friend.

"Buffy, you can take this good job that I found you, or change your name to Glitter, go work at the Moonlight Lounge downtown, and kiss just about any chance you had at becoming a well respected actress goodbye."

The little blonde swallowed hard at Will's statement.  She was right, of course.  Most people with checkered pasts didn't really get the good roles since there was too much chance of some sort of scandal.  

And starvation really did sound kind of bad now that she thought about it.  

Spike was about to protest that he would never hire this insolent little bint no matter what Red said, when Willow cut him off.

"And I have two words for you, mister.  Cattle.  Prod."

That shut up him.

They stood there in silence for a long moment, staring at the young woman that still stood between him.  Both blonds had always known her as this kind hearted, quiet person, yet here she stood, appearing as if she was about ready to tear both of them apart if they said one more word.  

Guess it's true what they say.  It's always the quiet ones you have to watch out for.

"Now, are you two going to be nice?  Or am I going to have to get mad?"

"We'll be good," Buffy assured her.  She had never seen the redhead like this before and was rather afraid of what she would do if she and Spike got into it again.  "No reason to get all vein-y on us.  Right?"

The stupid little chit elbowed him hard in his side, causing Spike to wince in pain.  He shot her a dirty look, but quickly went back to innocent school boy before answering, "Right."

Well, Red may have made a point that no one else was even considering taking the job, but he still didn't like the idea of hiring her.  She was insolent, ill mannered, and obviously not all together from what he could tell.  

Didn't matter much, he supposed.  Dawn would have her running out of his life in no time.  Guess the girl did come in handy sometimes after all.

Willow eyed them suspiciously, knowing full well that they wouldn't make it another hour before they would be at each others throats again.  But they would just have to work it out themselves.

From inside the radio station, the group of onlookers had gathered in the front entrance to watch the rest of the exchange.  

"Wow," Xander said once the argument had finally been settled.  "Who knew Willow had in her?  I through for sure that'd she be turned into Buffy Chow with a side of Spike."

"That's Spike for you.  Brings out the worst in every woman," Angel shrugged dryly, going back to twirling the drumstick between his fingers.

"But Willow handled him and that Buffy girl well," Anya put in, nodding her head approvingly.  "She'd make a great agent with that kind of attitude."

From the wall he was leaning against, Oz grinned proudly, but never said a word.  Willow had taken care of the problem that they were all afraid of; even Anya hadn't wanted to get in the middle of the mess, but his girlfriend had.  He couldn't be more proud of her.

And, besides, Willow was pretty hot when she was angry.

********** 


	5. Chapter Five

**Chapter Five**

Buffy stepped out of the cab and stared up at the mansion before her.  Her jaw dropped slightly as she looked up at the place.  She had never seen a house this big before, not in person, anyway.  The closest she had ever come to being in a place this big was at her Uncle Martin and 'Aunt' Henry's funeral home up in Seattle when she was a kid, and that didn't even compare.

The taxi driver slammed the trunk closed once he had removed the last of her bags.  He awkwardly lifted the suitcases and whistled when he got a good look at the house.

"Nice place," he mused aloud.  Glancing over at Buffy, the scruffy man asked, "Friend of yours?"

The blonde's face darkened, the awe she felt fading quickly when she remembered exactly why she was there.  

"No," she said rather coolly.

After paying the man, she picked up her own bags and headed up the walk for the front door, all the while wondering exactly how she got into this mess.  This wasn't how it was supposed to happen.  She was supposed to come to LA, get her big break, and live happily ever after; not have to take a job from a man that she hated, and who hated her in return, just because her friend threatened bodily harm for the both of them.  

Oh, right, Willow was how she got into this mess.  She had to get herself a bass playing boyfriend, who just happened to be in the same band as Buffy's new loathsome boss, and become friends with his band buddies.  And, Willow being Willow, she just had to feel sorry for the Bleached Wonder, and try to fix both his and Buffy's problems.

God, why did she have to have such a good friend?  

Why couldn't it have been Cordelia?  She would have been oblivious to their problems and both she and Spike could have gone happily about their lives; him being completely ignorant to the fact that Buffy was alive, and she hating him with the undying passion of a thousand suns.  Life would have been good.

But no, it had to be Willow, and her good heart wouldn't let her go about her own business without at least trying to help them.  

Stupid good intentions.

Reaching up, she pressed the button for the doorbell, and listened to the musical chimes echo through the house.  She waited for several seconds before a middle-aged man opened the door.  A pair of wire rime glasses rested on his face, which he used to peer down at the young blonde before him curiously.

"Can I help you?" he asked, his British accent smooth as silk.

"Um, I guess," she said extending her hand out to shake his.  "I'm Buffy."

The man continued to look at her, the name apparently not ringing any bells.

"You know, Buffy… Buffy Summers?  The new nanny?"

Giles couldn't hide the surprise on his face.  From what William had told him, he had expected some crazed, ill mannered woman with wild eyes and hair. But this girl – and he meant girl.  She didn't look like she was hardly over twenty – was nothing like that description.  She had a warm smile, was well posed, and appeared to be a rather likeable person.

Then, knowing William, he probably did something to the poor thing that caused her to act out.  Really, the boy could drive a Buddhist monk crazy.

"Oh, yes.  Do come in," Giles said, taking one of her bags before moving out of the way and letting her inside.

Drawing a deep breath, the blonde stepped into the home.

Oh, so this is what the gates to hell look like. There's even a nice little butler to show you the way to your eternal torment.  How convenient.

The chilling thought of Spike making her wear some black dress, a la Mary Poppin's style, flashed through her mind before she realized the butler guy was speaking to her again.

"This way," he said, heading towards the stairs.  Buffy followed close behind, still trying to take in her new surroundings.  "Are these your only bags?"

She didn't seem like the type of girl to be so conservative when it came to clothing and the such.  However, that question was quickly answered when the blonde started to laugh.

"Yeah, right.  Two bags it?  That's a good one, Jeeves."

"My name is Giles," he said rather coolly, causing Buffy to snap her mouth shut.

"Sorry," she said.

They stopped in front of a door at the end of a hallway on the second floor, and the man she now knew as Giles turned around to face her.  There was a deep frown etched on his features, which made the little blonde drop her head even more.

"I hope you find your accommodations acceptable," he said, his tone not giving any indication whether he had accepted her apology or not.

Opening the door, the two adults stepped in.  There wasn't much to the room; bare white walls, a twin bed, a dresser, and a closet.  There was a window off to the side, which provided much of the light for the room.  All in all, the place reminded her of the guest room back at her grandmother's house; not at all to the standards that the rest of the home seemed to possess.

And there was no way that all her junk was going to fit in here.  She'd better call Wills and let her know to keep some of it over at her place.

"Servant quarters," Giles explained, as if reading her mind.  "I'm afraid there is not much to them."

"Yeah," Buffy said dryly, crossing the room and sitting down on the bed.  "But you can't beat the price."

"No, I suppose not."  He placed her bags next to the dresser, then said, "The children are down by the pool.  You should take a few minutes, then come down to see them."

"What about his Great Blondness?"

"Who?"

"Spike.  He with them?"

"Oh.  Um, I don't know.  He very possibly could be, but it's more likely he's somewhere else."

"Real hands on parent, isn't he," Buffy said, standing up from her spot on the bed and walking over to the window.  

She gazed outside and found that she had a view of said swimming pool that was currently occupied by three children.  The two youngest were splashing in the shallow end, while the apparent oldest was laid out in one of the lounge chairs.  

Well, they appeared well behaved enough.  The two younger children looked a bit hyperactive, which would be normal for their age, but nothing she couldn't handle.  It would be just like babysitting back when she was a teenager, only for a longer period of time.  

"I'm afraid that is why he needs you, Ms. Summers," Giles said, reminding her of the fact that he was still there.

Turning away from the window, the blonde said, "Please, call me Buffy."

The older British man smiled politely, like he was just going to humor her request.  "Of course, Buffy."  He turned to leave, but called over his shoulder, "If you need anything, I will be downstairs."

"Thanks Giles," she called as he shut the door behind him.

Once out in the hall, the middle-aged man shook his head.  

That poor girl.  Those kids were going to eat her alive and pick their teeth with her bones.

********** 

Spike pulled the door shut behind him as he walked out onto the back porch.  

Tara and Andrew were happily splashing in the shallow end of the pool, careful to stay away from the rope that divided the two halves.  His youngest niece floated in the water, thanks to the help of an oversized, orange inner-tube.  Andrew ran his arms along the top of the water, causing a wave to wash over her and soak her.  She giggled mercilessly, returning the wave with much less power.  He avoided it by diving underwater.

Dawn was lying out in a lounge chair, choosing to spend the warm day baking in the sun.  A pair of dark sunglasses, which were much too large, covered most of her face.  The bathing suit she wore was a two piece, and Spike was grateful for that damn privacy fence that the previous owners had installed.  Dawn was a pretty a girl, but she was still just that, a girl.  And the last thing he needed was for some creepy neighbor to take an unnatural interest in his twelve-year-old niece.  Still, it was a rather amusing sight, a little girl trying to look so grownup.  

Spike had heard the doorbell earlier and knew what that meant; Willow's psychotic friend, and his new nanny, had finally arrived.  He had left Giles to greet her and show her to her room.  The last thing he wanted right now was to deal with her, but he also knew he needed to be present when she was introduced to the children, if for no other reason than enjoying the show when Dawn sent her screaming out of his life.

Giles came out to join them shortly after.  "She should be down soon," he informed Spike, careful to try and keep a low tone.

"Who should be down soon?" Dawn asked.

Damn.  The girl had hearing like a dog.

Tara and Andrew stopped their splashing and turned their attention to their uncle.  As they did so, Dawn sat up in the lounge chair, took off her sunglasses, and placed them to rest on the top of her head.  The twelve-year-old watched him suspiciously and waited for his answer.

And he thought Anya was scary.

Before Spike had a chance to answer his niece, the French doors opened, and a young woman trotted outside.  Her long blonde hair flowed down her back and over her shoulders, shaping her innocent-looking face.  The short sleeve shirt she wore clung tightly to her, and the short, matching skirt showed off her nicely toned legs.  

Spike would admit, she really was a beauty to behold.  Too bad she had to ruin the illusion by opening her mouth and speaking.

He watched as Buffy's hazel eyes scanned over the group, before coming to stop on him.  Those same eyes narrowed a bit, but she plastered on a large, faux smile as if it might cover up her clear distaste for him.

The young woman walked towards him, her high heeled shoes causing an echo as they struck against the brick.  They sounded like gun shots to Spike.

For a split second, her smile turned genuine as she turned to the older Brit that stood at his side.  "Hey, Giles," she said pleasantly, before her tone and her expression went back to the hardness from before.  "Spike."

The singer's eyes narrowed. He'd have to remember to talk to her about how to properly address him from now on.  Yeah, he would enjoy that conversation.  Really put this bint in her place.

"Who's this?" a child's voice cut in.  

He turned his attention away from Buffy to find that all three of the children had gathered for introductions.  Dawn was the one who had spoken and already had that same curious, yet cool, look on her face. Andrew stood beside his sister, soaking wet, with water dripping off his shorts and splattering on the ground.  Next to him was Tara, a large beach towel wrapped around her body as she attempted to hide behind her brother.

Spike watched as Buffy smiled brightly at the three, unknowing that she had just come face to face with unadulterated evil.

Clearing his throat, the singer tuned into the tone his father had always used when introducing a new member of the staff and said, "Children, I would like you to meet Buffy, your new nanny."

"Hi," the blonde said, extending her hand towards the eldest child.

Dawn raised an eyebrow as her eyes scanned over the woman before her.  "_You're_ the new nanny?"

Buffy stood there awkwardly for a moment, her hand still extended out to girl before she withdrew it but continued to smile.  "Yes, I am."

"_You_ are?"

"Um, yeah."

"The new nanny."

"Uh-huh."

"_Our_ new nanny."

"Ah…yeah.  That's what I've been told."

Dawn stood there, just staring at her new nanny like she had grown a third head. Then the child began to laugh.  Hard.  And from deep within. 

After several seconds passed with only Dawn laughing, Andrew began to as well, first very awkwardly before apparently getting the joke.  Not wanting to feel left out, even Tara began to giggle, still hiding behind her brother.  And because he understood, a ghost of a smile passed over Spike's lips.

Oh, this bird had no idea what was coming.

Buffy could only stand there looking at the three before glancing over at the two men for answers.  Giles dropped his gaze from her, like he knew what was going on, but couldn't tell her.  And Spike just smiled and raised an eyebrow as if to challenge her to whatever it was they were laughing about.

Finally, Dawn's laughter died down, and she had to literally wipe the tears from her face.  

Still smiling, she turned to her uncle and said, "Thank you.  This is going to be so much fun."

Buffy watched the girl carefully as she turned the smile to her new nanny, then headed back to the sun lounge she had been laying on before.

"What was that about?" Buffy asked.

Giles was still doing his best to avoid eye contact with her at all cost, and Spike still had that amused, smug smile on his face. 

"Yes, um, nothing to worry about," the non-butler stammered, trying to look convincing and failing at it miserably.  Before she could press the issue any further, he reached over, grabbed her by the arm, and began to lead her back into the house.  "Come along then, Ms. Sum – I mean, Buffy.  I'm sure you would like to get settled in as quickly as possible."

"But-."

Before the new nanny had time to protest, Giles already had her back in the house and helping her up to her new room.  Spike stood there, looking at the path they retreated on for several seconds before a large splash drew his attention away.

Andrew was back in the pool, diving below the surface as if he were looking for something underneath.  Tara, however, was still standing in front of Spike, looking up at her uncle with big, innocent eyes.  The bleached blond singer couldn't help but grin at her as he knelt down to her level.

"Let the games begin, aye, little one?" he asked mischievously.

Her response was a giggle before she darted away to join her brother.

********** 

AN: Okay, so, after an extremely long wait, you just get a short little chapter.  Sorry about that.  I'm going to try and get the next one out as quickly as I can, but I can't make any promises on that.  Hopefully it'll be longer than this chapter.  Well, thanks to everyone who reviewed, I really love hearing from you guys.  


	6. Chapter Six

**Chapter Six**

Dawn sat on her brother's bed, flipping through one of his comic books. She ignored the glares Andrew shot at her for disturbing his precious 'literature' collection.

As she looked at one drawing of a super heroine, Dawn wondered how anyone thought it'd be possible to fight crime wearing an outfit that looked as if it had to be literally glued onto their body. Not to mention the six-inch high-heeled boots, and the fact that if the woman's breasts got any bigger, she would fall face forward onto the pavement.

Well, at least she knew the reason why her brother read them.

Or she hoped that was the reason why he read them.

Tara sat on the floor, quietly playing with Ms. Kitty Fantastico, a stuffed animal that her mother had given her after Tara had gotten her tonsils out. The black and white toy cat was furry and its body was limp from the soft cotton inside. There was a large stitching up the side of the cat's body, a constant reminder of Dawn's brief stint with archery lessons the previous summer.

"So, what do you two think of our new nanny?" Andrew asked, turning in his desk chair.

Dawn glanced up from the comic to her little brother, then turned to her little sister.

The blonde six-year-old flipped the cat up into the air, then caught it on the way back down before repeating the process. She was ignored both of them.

"I think Spike must be getting desperate if he hired her," the twelve-year-old said. "I mean, Buffy? What kind of name is that? And she's blonde! We'll have her running out of here before you can say 'Like, for sure.'"

"Okay, hey, on the blond joke," Andrew said. "And tell me again why we want her gone? She seemed nice."

"Oh, yeah, they're nice -- right up until they start bossing you around like they're your mother. And she's not mom, just like Spike isn't dad, and they shouldn't be able to tell us what to do!"

"But aren't grownups supposed to tell us what to do?"

Rolling her eyes, the eldest of the children went back to the comic. "You're insufferable," she informed her little brother.

"I'm what?"

Dawn actually didn't know what it meant, but had heard Spike use it several times when he talked about them.

"Nothing," she grumbled.

The brown-haired child flipped another page when a car horn blared below her brother's window. Andrew leaned over his desk and peered out into the driveway.

"She's got _more_ stuff?" Dawn asked. When he nodded, she added, "God, that's like the fourth trip. We didn't even bring that much stuff and we moved from across the country."

Andrew shrugged one shoulder, then smiled. "Oh, hey, Willow brought Oz and the others with her this time."

"Oh!" Dawn said, knocking her brother away to see out the window. "Is Xander with them?"

Andrew glared at his big sister. "Yeah. So are Angel and Anya. They must have come over to meet Buffy."

"Well, they better enjoy it, 'cause it'll be the last time they'll ever see her," Dawn informed him, letting the window's curtain's fall back in place.

She walked back towards the center of the room where Tara had stopped playing with Miss Kitty and was now watching her siblings. The eldest of the three had her hand against her chin, deep in thought.

"You got a plan?" Andrew asked, flopping into his desk's chair.

Dawn thought a few minutes longer, than a wicked smile spread across her face. "Does that Jonathon kid still need someone to watch Roxie for him for the weekend?"

Buffy sighed as she stood in front of her new closet, contemplating exactly how many of her clothes she could fit in the small bedroom.

Between the closet, the chestier drawers, and the boxes Willow had brought over a couple of hours ago, she still wouldn't have enough room to store all her things. She should have realized that it would be damn near impossible to cram an apartment full of junk into a room the size of her bedroom back in Sunnydale.

"Figures. I move into a mansion and I get to sleep in the freaking linen closet," she muttered to herself, grabbing another one of her dresses.

As she slipped it onto a hanger, the blonde heard the loose floorboard near the door squeak, telling her someone else had entered the room. Probably Willow with more stuff for her that she didn't have any place to put.

"Just put it anywhere you can," she said over her shoulder. "I think there might be some room on the bed."

"From what I can tell, that's pretty much full, love."

Buffy bristled. Just who she wanted to deal with right now.

Turning, she eyed her new employer.

He was casually going threw her things that had been left out on the bed, acting as if it were the most natural thing in the world and not an invasion of her privacy. After touching nearly everything, he settled on a white sundress that had lain on top of the clothes, and held it up to get a better look. Great, now she was going to have to wash all of her clothes – twice – and burn that dress because there was no telling where those hands had been.

"No touch-y," she said, grabbing the dress. "Anything."

"Now, now, pet. No need to get all testy. Especially with the boss," he smirked, continuing to investigate her things.

"What? Wanted to make sure I didn't bring any weapons with me?"

"No, but now that you mention it, it might be in my best interest if I did check," the singer said, opening the flap to a large box.

Buffy smirked. "I'm not big into weapons. If I were going to kill you, I'd use my hands."

"You talk to all your employers like that?" Before she had a chance to answer, the bleached-blond muttered, "No wonder you can't keep a bloody job."

Narrowing her eyes, the new nanny threw her hair over her shoulder and crossed her arms, still holding the dress in one hand. "What do you want, Spike?"

"That," he answered, pointing at her.

She drew back as if she had been struck. Buffy glanced over her shoulder, thinking perhaps he was pointing at something behind, then looked down at herself.

Assuming what he meant, she held up the dress and said, "I don't know, Spike. White really isn't your color, what with the whole albino, vampire rocker thing you're going for. But you might have the legs to pull it off."

"Not the dress, you daft chit. My name."

"What about it?" she asked. "Cause, I'm not the one that named you after a dog, if that's what you're getting at."

Rolling his eyes in a way that would make Dawn proud, Spike answered, "What I am 'getting at' is that while you are under my employment, you should show the proper respect when addressing me."

A tight frown formed on Buffy's face. "Okay, you want to say that again, but this time without the pompous-ass tone."

His eyes narrowed. "That was not a 'pompous-ass tone.' That was an employer to employee tone. And it's not like I'm askin' you to give me your first born child. All I'm askin' for is to be addressed properly."

"And that would be, what? Master Spike?" With an unladylike snort, Buffy said, "Trust me, there are a lot of things I'd like to call you, but Master isn't one of them."

"How about just Mr. Barrett?" he asked in a clipped tone.

"What about Giles? He's the butler and I haven't heard him call you Mister or Master or any other 'm' words," the blonde said.

"Giles isn't the butler," Spike responded automatically.

Now rolling her eyes, Buffy said, "He answers the door, he shows people to their rooms, and, as far as I can tell, he pretty much runs things around here. Face it. He's one 'Master Barrett' away from being Mr. Belvedere. That, or one 'Yes, Dear' away from being Mrs. Barrett."

Spike opened his mouth to make his comeback, when Willow walked into the bedroom, carrying yet another box. "You two aren't fighting again, are you?" the redhead asked with a suspicious tone.

"No," they answered together.

They glared at one another, but Willow chose to ignore them. Placing the box down on an open piece of carpet, the young waitress grabbed Buffy's wrist and started to pull her out the door. "Come on. The guys want to meet you."

Before Buffy could protest, she found herself being dragged down the stairs to the waiting rock group.

Angel sat back on the living room couch, idly flipping through a copy of Rolling Stones he had found on the coffee table that his feet were now propped on.

It had been awhile since he had been in Spike's home, at least since before the three brats had moved in. In fact, this was his first look at the new furniture Giles had bought to replace the ones he helped destroy at the last big bash the singer had thrown.

Well, judging by the sturdiness of the new coffee table, he'd have to put more than just five girls up on it to make it fall this time. Indeed, he'd bet that he could even beat the old record and have at least ten girls up on it before the damn thing broke. Now if they could only get the chance…

"It's awful quiet in here," Xander said. "You don't think that those kids murdered her and are now out burying the body, do you? Oh, or worse yet, that, since Willow wasn't here to stop her, Buffy killed Spike. What would we do then?"

"Hold auditions for a new singer?" Oz answered.

"Way to be concerned, man."

"Oh, she won't kill him," Anya stated confidently. "Spike is paying her to live in his house and eat his food in return for watching three small people for him. Surely she wouldn't jeopardize that for some silly grudge."

Xander raised an eyebrow at his manager. "This coming from the woman who once used every resource she had to destroy the lead singer of _Troll_'s career?"

She shrugged. "He had to be taught a lesson for giving other women, who aren't me, orgasms," she answered. "And that's different, Harris. Olaf and me were bed-buddies. Buffy and Spike aren't. Yet, anyway."

"Try never," Angel said, while frowning at the photo of Lindsey McDonald he had come across in the magazine. 'Country singer trying to be rock. Pfft. That's just pathetic.' Quickly turning the page, he went on, "Those two hate each other more than most divorce couples do. Only they skipped over the whole marriage thing and went straight for the embittered ex ending."

"Well, depending on what those kids have planned to get rid of her, she might end up with half his stuff in a settlement," Xander said, flopping down on the couch next to Anya.

"Well, I still think they should get over that because I think Buffy would be surprised at how good of a naked-wrestling partner Spike can be. He's quite a stallion, you know," the manager said, picking at her chipped nails.

"Anya!" Xander balked, ignoring the snickering Angel.

"What?" She glanced over at the guitar player, and sighed as if he were doing something stupid to entertain Tara and was waiting for someone to tell him how great he was. Reaching over, she patted his knee and placed a large, sweet smile on her face. "Don't worry. You're good too. So you have no reason to be threatened by Spike's abilities."

Xander looked as if he were about to be sick, while Angel started to laugh like a four-year-old at Bozo the Clown. Even though Oz's face never changed, if one were to look closely, they could see he was biting down on the inside of his cheeks to keep it that way.

"Spike's ability to do what?" Willow asked, coming down the stairs.

Behind her, trailed along the two blonds: Buffy prancing down the stairs, and Spike glaring at the back of her head.

Snaking her arm around Oz's waist, the redhead looked to the three on the couch to answer her question.

"Oh, for him to satisfy-," Anya began, only to have Xander slap his hand over her mouth.

"The critics!" he finished for her. "Um, I mean, ah…Spike's ability to satisfy the critics, you know, with his lyrics and…stuff."

Angel, still chuckling to himself, shook his head. If nothing else, Anya always made sure Xander had to be on his toes.

"O-kay," Willow said, raising an eyebrow at the explanation, but not pressing for anything further. Instead, she looked over to the petit blonde woman next to her and said, "Guys, I want you to meet Buffy. Buffy, the guys."

Smiling, the blonde raised her hand and said, "Hey."

Xander removed his hand from over Anya's mouth, wiped it on his jeans, then held it out for Buffy. "Hey, Buffster. I'm Xander Harris. You can call me Xander or Xan or Harris or whatever."

"Like brain-damaged?" Spike quipped.

The guitar player glared at him for a moment, then went back to the introductions. "I guess you know Oz and Anya."

"We've met," Buffy said, giving each a small hello.

While she did this, Angel stood up and patted at his hair, to make sure that it was lying the way he had fixed it earlier that day. He moved in behind his fellow band member just as Xander said, "And that's-."

"Angel," the drummer said smoothly, pushing the guitar player out of the way and moving close to the nanny. Pasting on his 'oh, so charming' smile, he took her hand into his and began to rub small circles on her skin with his thumb. "You can call me," he grinned.

And she could. He liked her. After all, Buffy had the three main things that Angel looked for in a woman: hot, blonde, and hated Spike.

He watched as Buffy began to blush under his gaze, then heard his annoying, bleached friend groan. "Please, Peaches. That line's older than her," Spike said. "And no fraternizing with the help."

"The 'help' has a name," Buffy said, sending a death stare at her employer before turning back to Angel with a teenage-girl crush smile. "And besides, he can fraternize all he wants. In fact, she doesn't mind being fraternized with."

Spike snorted and Angel grinned.

Oh, yes. He definitely liked this girl.


	7. Chapter Seven

Authors Note: Hey, everyone. Wow, thanks for all the nice reviews for the last chapter, it made me so happy to see you guys are still enjoying the story. Btw, the new beta version is up for chapter six. Y'all can thank afterlife and kriken for the corrections – and there were many – for that chapter and this one. Thanks guys. Well, I you guys will enjoy this chapter too.

**Chapter Seven**

The sky was glowing orange; not just a small patch near where the sun was setting off on the unseen horizon, but the whole sky. It was an eerie sight because it made the sky look as if it were on fire. But, at the same time, it was a comfort. To her at least.

"Red sky at night, sailors delight," Dawn muttered to herself.

That was what her father use to say. She could remember when they had spent that summer up in Amityville. He would take her and Andrew out on the water – their mother and Tara couldn't go because they couldn't really swim – and he would tell them that rhyme when the sun went down. Then he would take them in after all day on the water.

Andrew was always burnt to a crisp, even though their mother had smeared a whole bottle of sun-block on his face and arms. Their father would laugh and blame their mother for passing on her 'pasty-face British genes' to the boy, so that it was her fault instead of his for keeping them out too long.

Then Tara would bug them about what they did on the water and make them promise that they would stay on the beach with her the next day. She would give them those puppy-dog eyes that Dawn had taught her so well, so they could do nothing but agree. Their parents would find it amusing how quickly the siblings always gave in to their little sister, but they themselves were just as bad. All the little blonde had to do was bat her eyelashes, and they were all putty in her hands.

That had been a good summer.

It was hard to believe that had just been last year; before the accident, before Travers and California and an uncle they had only heard mention of in passing. Life was so different now: different state, different coast, different people trying to play the parts of her parents.

Well, she didn't mind Spike too much. Of course, the fact that he didn't even seem to realize they were alive unless they were in trouble helped. He was too caught up in his own life to worry about them, and he did make it possible for them to stay together. So, he wasn't on her 'must make life hell' hit list.

Giles tried, but he was still gone by five every day, so he really didn't count too much either.

Nannies, however…

Once they found out that you didn't have a mother, they would do everything in their power to become your boss. Dawn had seen it enough times in her life with her friends. Their parents would get a divorce, and the next they knew, they had both a new step-mom and a new nanny to boss them around so they would stay out of step-mommy dearest and dad's hair.

Well, no nanny was going to come in and tell them what to do. She had made a promise that she would look after her siblings, and she didn't need any valley-girl coming in and screwing things up.

"Thanks again for doing this," Jonathon said, bringing Dawn back to the present. He slipped into the backseat of his parent's car and added, "Promise you'll take good care of her until we get back."

Andrew stood next to the car, clutching a large and heavy box in his arms. "Yeah, I will."

Andrew had met the young man at their new school. The two boys hit it off the instant that Andrew realized that Jonathon not only knew who Doctor Who was but could name off every incarnation of Star Trek to date with captain and crew. It was scary, really. Almost like they were the same boy, only Andrew was lanky, pale and had blond-hair and Jonathon was short, dark-haired and was a bit more grounded.

Dawn thought her brother was going to burst with sheer joy when he found out that Jonathon's dad was none other than Adam Livingston, the creator and producer of his current favorite TV show, "Space Cowboy". She was surprised that Mr. Livingston hadn't taken a restraining order out on him yet. If it had been her, she would have.

Jonathon smiled wearily as he looked from Andrew to Dawn and waved. "Well, bye guys."

The two siblings watched as the car disappeared down the street, then turned to head back up the driveway to the house.

"Now what?" Andrew asked, shifting the box in his arms to distribute the weight more evenly.

"Now, we wait until everyone is asleep."

"Then _Operation Bye, Bye Buffy_ begins?"

Dawn just stopped herself from rolling her eyes at her brother. Why did he have to name all of their plans 'operation something'?

"Yup," the preteen said. "She'll be gone by morning."

As the brown-haired girl slipped into the house to make sure the coast was clear, Andrew looked down at the box in his arms and frowned.

"Or have a new pair of boots by morning," he muttered to himself.

Buffy yawned as she walked into the hallway from her room, pulling her bathrobe closer around herself. It had been a long day and all she wanted to do was sleep until, say, the next century, but she figured she better check on the children and make sure they were alright before turning in herself.

The kids and Giles had briefly joined the adults in the living room when the pizzas they ordered arrived. But then Dawn had gathered up her brother and sister, grabbed a couple of boxes and split upstairs. Buffy couldn't be sure, but the twelve-year-old was looking at her like she had something big planned. She would just have to be on the look out for whatever it was.

Cracking open her door, Buffy peered into Tara's room first, since it was directly across from hers. Her princess-style room was dark, except for a small light from the corner that was glowing thanks to a Cinderella nightlight. The little girl herself was snuggled up with a small stuff animal, the light seeming not to bother her. The poor child looked lost in the large, four-poster bed, but comfortable at least.

Buffy wasn't surprised to find that Dawn's door was locked.

'_Probably in there plotting_,' the nanny thought.

Andrew's door wasn't even shut. When Buffy looked in on him, she had to smile. He was lying flat across his bed, his face smushed against his pillow and his arm draped over the side of the bed, reaching into the pizza box that laid there. So much for him brushing his teeth before bed.

As she pulled the door closed, Buffy felt someone's eyes on her. She turned to look down the adjoining hallway and saw Spike standing there, leaning against what she assumed was his bedroom's door smirking.

"The troops present and accounted for?" he asked.

"Yes," she said, crossing her arms. "If you want to make sure that none of them have died in my care, you can check yourself."

"Not worried that you'd kill one of the kids, pet," he said.

Buffy returned the smirk. "Guess that would make you smarter than you look. Good thing, 'cause I really didn't think anyone could be that stupid."

His eyes narrowed. "Watch it, little girl. I'm still your boss, remember."

"And I'm still the only one _willing_ to work for you." Buffy really wasn't sure if that were true or not, but, from the things that Willow and the others had said, she thought it had to be. His evil glare was answer enough for her.

But then, the glare turned back into a smirk as he said, "Well, who does that make the stupider one then, eh, love? Me? Or the one _willing_ to do as I say?"

He eyed her up and down her body, much like he had done when they'd first met at the restaurant, as if wondering if she really was willing to do as he said. Though it disgusted her since she did hate this man, the blonde nanny had to repress the shudder she got from the look. Yeah, she might hate this man, but she wasn't blind, as much as she wished she were at this moment so she wouldn't have to see that look in his eyes.

"Shut up, Spike," she said, hurrying to her room and wondering if what he just did could be considered sexual harassment.

"That's Mr. Barrett," Buffy heard him call before adding, in a much softer tone, "cheeky bint."

Slipping into her room, the blonde nanny leaned against her now closed door.

What was that? Why had she gone all shudder-y when he'd looked at her like that? That just wasn't right. It was…eww, that's what it was. No other way to describe it. Nope. None.

"God, I need a boyfriend," Buffy said, taking off her robe and slipping into bed.

She was tired and wanted to sleep so she could forget for a few hours who she was now working for.

Well, at least one good thing about today was that she finally got to officially meet Willow's new friends.

They all seemed rather nice, even Anya -- though Buffy had no idea why she was going on and on about Spike and some stallion he apparently owned. Nor did she understand why Xander would get upset by the subject and continually change it to something else.

Oz hadn't said much – not that he would have had a chance between Anya and Xander – but Willow didn't seem to mind and they both were kind of caught up in their own little world.

And then there was Angel. She had never told Willow this, but she had always kind of had a crush on the drummer ever since she had seen him on "LiveWire" with Cameron Michaels.

That had been the day she'd been fired and been ready to destroy anything associated with Spike. But, then, the bleached-blond hadn't shown up for the interview, and instead they talked with the other band members. There was just something about Angel that seemed so mysterious and sweet…

Okay, so he had tried to order a beer at eleven o'clock that morning and had looked awful when she first met him, but she wasn't a morning person either. And who hadn't had a hangover and wanted a way to make it go away the next day?

Then, it could be that Angel was just her type: tall, dark, and handsome. That's how she liked them.

Not pale, bleached-blond and annoying.

Stupid Spike.

_'No fraternizing with the help,'_ her groggy mind repeated, causing her to frown into her pillow.

Who did Spike think he was? Angel could 'fraternize' with her if he wanted. It was a free country the last time she'd checked.

Stupid bleached-blond. Thinks he can tell her what to do just because he's her boss.

Her mental grumbling eventually lulled her to sleep.

Dawn cracked her eyes open and glanced at her digital clock: 1:15 A.M. Perfect.

The preteen had heard her uncle and Buffy speaking in the hallway awhile ago before the hall light was turned off and the nanny's door closed. Giving it a good half-hour to be sure that the blonde woman was asleep, Dawn finally got out of bed and went to collect her brother.

She didn't bother to hide her smirk as she passed Buffy's door. It was time Nanny Bambi found out what watching the Griffin kids was all about.

Opening Andrew's door, Dawn found her little brother in the same position Buffy had. As she slipped towards him, she heard him mutter, "No, Pilot, we have to save Wolverine and D'Argo before Vader gets them."

'_God, even in his dreams, he's a dork_,' the brown-haired girl thought as she knelt next to him.

"Andrew," she said softly, nudging his shoulder. When that didn't work, Dawn said a little more forcefully, "Andrew."

Startled, the boy's eyes shot open. "The Klingons are attacking!!"

"Shhh," his sister hissed, slapping her hand over his mouth. "You want to wake everyone up?"

"Dawn?" Andrew said, blinking to bring her into focus.

"Yeah."

Sitting up in his bed, the reddish-blond boy looked over to the corner, then back at his sister. "Time for _Operation Buffy Go Bye-Bye_?"

Rolling her eyes, Dawn headed for the corner and said, "I told you no more stupid code names. Now come and get this thing, cause I'm so not touching it."

Andrew fell out of bed and did as his sister asked. "_Neutralize the Nanny_?"

"No."

"_Buffy-gate_?"

"No."

"_Agent Oh-God-I-Quit_."

"Andrew!"

_Bunching up her pillow underneath her head, Buffy sighed. There was something wrong. _

_Did she forget something at the apartment? No, they had made sure the place was empty before she turned in her key. Mr. Gordo was sitting on top of the dresser. Most of her clothes were put away in her new closet, and the rest were with __Willow__. Pictures of her and her mom were safely tucked away. _

_So, it couldn't be anything to do with her stuff._

_Maybe the kids?_

_Dawn had been in her room when she went to bed and both Andrew and Tara had been asleep. So, no, that wasn't it._

_But what could it be?_

_The bed shifted with the weight of another person and she smiled. _

_Oh, that's right. He wasn't there yet._

_"I've been waiting for you," she said, feeling him move closer to her, but not touching her yet._

_He chuckled behind her, then leaned down and barely brushed his lips against the bare skin of her shoulder. Her smile continued to grow as she felt him reach below the covers and start to skim his hand across the small of her back, his finger nails tickling the area. _

_"Stop," she giggled. But he continued upward, the small grazes tickling her as he traced her spine. _

_Then Buffy felt something hard slide against her back, eliciting a small gasp from her._

_"Mmm," she chuckled. "I take it you missed me?"_

_But, whatever it was, continued to slide against the same spot, like it was moving. And the tickling had stopped, but now there was a sound. Almost like a hissing._

Buffy cracked open her eyes, finding that whatever was touching her in her dream, was still touching her. Still too much asleep to be alarmed by this, the nanny carefully rolled over onto her back.

Pulling the covers off, Buffy drew in a sharp breath, then began to scream.

Spike nearly fell out of bed as the terrified screech echoed through the home and tore him out of his favorite dream: his own adventures with the Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders – the only bloody good thing about American 'football.'

"What the…" he muttered to himself, getting out of bed and pulling on his jeans to go investigate.

Stepping out of his room, he looked down the hall and saw Andrew timidly staring down the adjoining hallway.

"What the bloody hell is going on?" the singer asked, jogging to his nephew.

"Um…"

Turning his attention to what the boy was looking at, Spike saw both Tara and Dawn peeking out of their rooms and looking at Buffy's still closed door. Tara appeared rather frightened by the nanny's scream, but Dawn had a smug grin on her face.

Oh, God, what had she done now?

Lord, he hoped he didn't get sued for this.

"What did you three do this time?" he asked the children harshly. Before even giving them the chance to answer, he began to bang on the door. "Ms. Summers?"

When no answer came, Spike reached down and turned the knob.

"Bloody hell!" he exclaimed, his arms sweeping out to push the kids back behind him.

Buffy was pushed against the wall, her eyes wide as she stared at the very large snake curled up in the middle of her bed. Its head was facing her, its tongue peeking out every few seconds as it slowly inched towards the edge of the bed.

"Stay back," Spike said, moving himself and the kids back even further into the hall. Hell, the thing was big enough to eat his youngest niece, and he needed to protect them.

The children were wiggling behind him, trying to see around their uncle and into the room. Dawn stood on her tiptoes, peering over his shoulder and smiling at the sight of the blonde nanny and the python. Andrew managed to look around his arm, while Tara peeked around his hip.

Blindly reaching for something to defend herself with, Buffy grabbed a silver jewelry box that was on top of her dresser and raised it over her head to strike.

"No!" Andrew cried, pushing past his uncle and running into the room. "Don't hurt her."

Buffy blinked, then looked over at Spike while still holding the jewelry box.

Buffy sighed as she leaned back against the stairwell, watching as Spike played at being a parent and the kids played at being intimidated. The three sat on the living room couch, oldest to youngest, listening to their uncle's rant, while still in their pajamas. Spike himself hadn't bothered to thrown on a shirt, but no one but Buffy seemed to notice.

"Where in the hell did you three come up with Kaa there?!" the bleached singer demanded, pointing to the aquarium that now housed the python. On top of the tank's lid sat a heavy rock, two paperweights from the study, and the Webster's New Universal Unabridged Dictionary just so they could be sure that the snake couldn't escape. Nevertheless, Spike was positive that it had some help in its last attempt at freedom.

Andrew at least had the decency to look ashamed at what had happened, while Tara just kept her head down.

Dawn, on the other hand…

"It's just a little snake," she said, settling back against the couch. She was sure to give Buffy an innocent smirk before she continued on. "What's the big?"

"Dawn," Spike practically growled at the girl.

Rolling her eyes up to the ceiling, the preteen sighed and said, "Her name is Roxie, alright. Andrew's watching her for Jonathon."

"Who the hell is Jonathon?" Spike asked.

"His friend. Lives down the street." At the blank look, Dawn added, "The producer's kid. Kind of looks like a hobbit."

"Oh…right," Spike said, though he still had no idea who she was talking about.

"How long is she staying?" the blonde nanny asked, seemingly reminding the family that she was there.

Andrew gave her a surprised and somewhat impressed smile that she was still willing to let the animal stay in the house after what happened. Dawn, however, narrowed her eyes, more than a little mad that Buffy wasn't packing her things to leave from the incident.

And Spike-

"Oh, no. That bloody thing isn't stayin' here!" he yelled. "The only snakes allowed in this house are the belt-shaped kind!"

"But Jonathon and his parents are already gone," Andrew said.

"I don't give a f-."

"Spike," Buffy said, cutting him off before he got the curse out. Her employer gave her a sharp look that she ignored as she calmly said, "I'm sure that they won't be gone that long."

"They'll be back on Sunday," Andrew filled in quickly.

With a nod to the boy, the blonde woman continued, "And he's already promised he'd watch her. He should keep that promise."

Looking up at the ceiling as if praying for strength, Spike said, "Fine. But keep that thing locked up tight. I don't want it gettin' out and makin' a meal of your lil' sister."

Tara paled somewhat at the thought and scooted away from the tank, while Buffy fought the urge to slap Spike upside the head. The poor kid was probably going to have nightmares now from the suggestion.

Andrew smiled brightly, mostly because now he wouldn't lose a friend because of his sister's stupid plan.

Dawn just continued to glare, trying to work out a new plan of attack to get rid of the blonde bimbo. Looks like she was going to be tougher than she originally thought.

"Right then," Spike said. "Dawn, help your brother get that thing back up into his room and go to bed."

"Whatever," the brunette child said, but got up and helped Andrew pick up the aquarium. Once lifted and ready to go, she looked back over at her little sister who was still sitting on the couch. "Come on, Tara."

The tiny blonde child was warily eyeing the snake and Buffy could almost see her uncle's words running through her head.

"I'll take her up," the nanny said.

Dawn sent her one last 'I will destroy you' sneer, then started up the stairs with Andrew.

_'What have I gotten myself into?'_ Buffy wondered to herself before turning her attention to the small child on the couch. She knelt to the little girl's level and asked, "You ready for bed?"

Tara nodded and wrapped her arms around Buffy's neck, allowing her to pick her up. The nanny was glad that she didn't weigh that much.

Spike was watching her and had a rather impressed smirk on his face. "You're still here."

"Disappointed?" the blonde woman asked, shifting the child who clung to her and was quickly falling asleep.

He snorted a laugh, but didn't answer. Instead, he said, "The other nannies would have been headin' for the hills after that."

Shrugging, Buffy started up the stairs and said, "I worked at DoubleMeat Palace though high school. It'll take a lot more than some snake to scare me."

"Careful, pet. Dawn might take that as a challenge," he warned, turning off the living room lights and heading up after her.

"I'm sure she will," she muttered, continuing her trek upstairs with the now sleeping child in her arms.

With a sigh, Buffy decided that she should start locking her door from now on. Though, in a distant part of her mind, something whispered that maybe she ought to forget to if it meant she got to see Spike with his shirt off again. She blissfully ignored said distant part.

Once they reached the top of the stairs, Buffy turned towards the end of the hallway that led to her and the children's rooms, while Spike turned and headed in the other direction.

However, before he disappeared into his room, he turned towards her, smiled and said, "Goodnight, Ms. Summers."

Buffy couldn't tell whether he was trying to be cute or condescending. So, she answered with the same tone, "Goodnight, _Mr_. Barrett."

She heard him chuckle, then heard his door close.

God, it had been a long day. And to think, this was just her first day on the job.

Putting Tara to bed, Buffy muttered to herself, "Oh, yeah, this is a lot better than working at the Moonlight Lounge."


End file.
